Mum was left homeless with three children! Our father took the money from the sale of our flat and vanished.
I HAVE NEVER TAKEN WHAT WASNT MINE In those distant school days, Mary found herself both scorning and
Ever since our son got married, he barely pays us a visit. Instead, hes constantly round his mother-in-laws place.
After Speaking with the Adopted Girl, I Realised Not Everything Was as It Seemed
Next to me on a park bench sat a five-year-old girl, swinging her legs as she told me about her life:
“I’ve never seen my dad, as he left Mum and me when I was very little. Mum died last year. The grown-ups told me she passed away.”
She looked at me and continued:
“After the funeral, Aunt Izzy—Mum’s sister—came to live with us. They told me she was ever so noble for not sending me to a children’s home. Now Aunt Izzy is my guardian, and I live with her.”
The girl paused, glanced at the ground beneath the bench, then resumed her story:
“After I moved in, Aunt Izzy started tidying up the house—she put all of Mum’s things in a corner and wanted to throw them out. I cried and begged her not to, so she let me keep them. Now I sleep tucked up in that corner, on my mum’s things. At night, lying there, I feel warm—as if she’s beside me.
Every morning, Aunt Izzy gives me something to eat. Her cooking’s not as nice as Mum’s, but she asks me to eat it all. I don’t want to upset her, so I eat everything she makes. I know she puts in effort, even if she can’t cook like Mum. Afterwards, she sends me out to play, and I’m not allowed to come home until it gets dark. Aunt Izzy is really, really nice!
“She loves to tell the other aunties she knows all about me. I don’t really know them, but they often come round for tea. Aunt Izzy chats with them, tells funny stories, and says nice things about me. She spoils the aunties and me with sweets.
After saying that, the little girl sighed, then went on:
“I can’t eat just sweets all the time. Aunt Izzy’s never told me off—not ever. She’s good to me. One time she even gave me a doll. Of course, the doll’s a bit poorly—it’s got a bad leg and its eye keeps squinting. My mum never gave me a broken doll.”
The little girl jumped off the bench and started hopping on one foot:
“I have to go because Aunt Izzy said the aunties are coming today, and I need to dress nicely before they arrive. She said she’ll give me a yummy slice of cake afterwards. Bye!”
She skipped away to run her errands. I sat there for a long time, and my mind kept circling around this “kind” Aunt Izzy. What was the point of her so-called kindness? Why did she need everyone to believe she was noble? Could anyone really be indifferent to a child who sleeps on the floor, wrapped in her late mother’s clothes…? After I spoke with the adopted girl, things seemed fuzzy, as if I was peering through thick London fog.
At sixty-two, I never imagined Id fall in love again, let alone with the passion and excitement of my youth.
Im 58 now, and honestly, I have no idea what to do about my neighbour anymore. She lives directly opposite
A Life Put Right:
“Lada, I forbid you from speaking to your sister and her family! They’ve got their life, we’ve got ours. Have you been ringing Natasha again? Complaining about me? I warned you.” Bogdan gripped my shoulder painfully.
As usual in these arguments, I retreated to the kitchen, fighting back bitter tears. I’d never once complained to my sister about my home life; we simply talked, especially about our aging parents. But Bogdan loathed Natasha—her family had peace and plenty, unlike ours…
When I married Bogdan, I was the happiest girl in all of England. He swept me off my feet, and I didn’t care that he was a head shorter than me, or that his mother arrived at our wedding barely able to stand. Only later did I learn she was a longtime alcoholic…
Blinded by love, I saw no evil—but after a year, I began to doubt my promised bliss. Bogdan drank heavily, stumbling home drunk, then came a string of affairs. I worked as an NHS nurse—hardly a generous wage. Bogdan preferred spending time with his drinking buddies and provided nothing for me. Once, I’d dreamed of children; now I poured my love into a pedigree cat. The thought of having children with my drunken husband no longer crossed my mind, even though I still loved Bogdan.
“Lada, you silly thing! Look at all those blokes eyeing you, but you stay glued to your little leprechaun! What do you see in him? Always covered in bruises, thinking no one notices beneath that concealer? Leave him before his anger gets you killed.” That was my friend—the colleague who always tried to save me.
Yes, Bogdan often gave in to unprovoked rages. Once, he locked me in our flat and took the key. After that, I lived in terror. My soul shrank, heart pounded whenever I heard the key in the lock. I imagined he blamed me for not giving him a child, for being a ‘bad’ wife. So, I never fought back—just took the pain, the insults, the mockery… Why did I still love Bogdan?
I remembered his mother, a real witch, telling me:
“Lada, do as your husband says. Love him with all your heart—forget your family, your friends, they’ll only lead you astray.”
So, I did—I gave up everything for Bogdan. I even liked it when he begged forgiveness, knelt and kissed my feet. Make-ups were sickly-sweet, magical, our bed strewn with roses. I knew full well he pinched them from the garden of a mate’s wife—a fellow drunk. The wives would swoon over their stolen roses and forgive.
Most likely, I’d have stayed a slave to Bogdan for life, rebuilding my fantasy heaven from broken pieces, had fate not intervened.
“Let Bogdan go,” an unknown woman said to me once. “I’ve got his son—you’re barren. Just let him go for my child’s happiness.”
I snapped, “Get out of here, now.”
Bogdan tried to deny it, but when I demanded he swear the boy wasn’t his, he could only stay silent. And I understood everything…
“Lada, you never look happy. Trouble at home?” my boss, the hospital director, unexpectedly asked.
“Everything’s fine,” I mumbled, embarrassed.
“It’s good to have everything in order—then life’s wonderful,” he said with a mysterious smile.
The director, Dr. Herman Lewis, was single again after a rocky marriage; he wasn’t striking, but up close, something about him set my heart fluttering—a heady scent, or maybe it was just kindness. His simple words unsettled me: “It’s good when everything is in order.” Me—my life was a mess. But time doesn’t wait for anyone to sort themselves out…
So, I left Bogdan, went home to my parents. “Did he throw you out?” Mum asked. “No, I’ll explain later,” I lied—too ashamed of my marriage.
Later, Bogdan’s mother rang and screamed curses, but I’d straightened my back and drawn a deep breath. Thanks, Dr. Lewis…
Bogdan stalked and threatened me, not realising he’d lost all control over my life:
“Don’t waste your time, Bogdan. Take care of your son. I’ve turned our page,” I told him calmly.
Finally, I returned to my sister Natasha and our parents. I became myself again, not someone else’s puppet.
“You’re a different woman, Lada. Glowing, happy—a true bride,” my friend smiled.
Then Dr. Herman Lewis proposed:
“Lada, marry me! I promise, you won’t regret it. Only one thing—just call me ‘Herman’ at home.”
“But do you even love me, Herman?”
He smiled and kissed my hand. “Sorry, I forgot women need words. Yes—I probably love you, but I trust actions more.”
I said yes—with more joy than I’d ever known.
…Ten years have flown by.
Every day Herman proves his love—not with empty words, but with care and protection. We never had children together—perhaps I really was ‘barren’. But Herman never blamed or hurt me.
“Lada,” he’d say, “just means we’re meant to be together—just us.”
His daughter gave us a granddaughter, little Sasha—our beloved girl.
And as for Bogdan, he drank himself to death before turning fifty. His mother shoots me evil looks if we meet at the shops, but her hateful arrows melt away in thin air. I just feel sorry for her.
As for us, well—everything is in order. Life is beautiful. LIFE IN ORDER “Charlotte, I forbid you to speak with your sister and her family! They have their
You’re Loaded, Aren’t You? My Wife’s Sister Borrowed Money and Then Took Off on a Beach Holiday
This summer, my wife’s beloved sister came to visit us. I jokingly call her “the golden child” as at every family gathering, Mum, Dad, and everyone else talk about her—she was a star student, graduated from university, landed a job in her field, isn’t she just the perfect daughter?
Meanwhile, the eldest (my wife) never finished her studies and got married early. But no one seemed to mind, since I was fairly well-off, running my own business. I owned a flat, a car, and had a good income. Yet despite that, the real star was always my wife’s younger sister.
And so it happened that this summer, my sister-in-law showed up on our doorstep asking to borrow money; she wanted to put down a deposit for her first flat but didn’t have enough saved. It wasn’t a huge sum for me, so I agreed to help. She promised she’d pay it back every month—as she worked for the council, she’d said, “You can count on me.”
So, I lent her the money—and she pretty much swore she’d pay me back each month. But not even a week later, off she went on a seaside holiday. Honestly, I was left dumbfounded; how could someone skint enough to not afford a mortgage deposit suddenly have cash for a trip to the coast?
She told the family she’d saved all year for her holiday, but what was curious is that she still hadn’t applied for any mortgage. When I asked, she just said she’d changed her mind.
I politely asked her to return the money, to which she replied she was broke and had spent it all at the seaside. That’s when it hit me—she’d never planned on buying that flat at all.
I asked her again, as nicely as I could, to pay back what she owed, explaining that I’d lent her money for a deposit, not a holiday in Blackpool. Her response stung:
“I’ll be earning loads soon—you can wait, I haven’t got the cash now.”
And how do you think the story ended? Exactly as you’d expect—she told my mother-in-law that I’d asked for the money back too early, insisted that’s not how you treat family, and, once again, she was the angelic youngest daughter and we were just the ‘rich villains’ in the family story! You must be raking it in, right? My wifes sister borrowed some money from us and then went off to Brighton Beach.
Our relatives came to visit us and brought some gifts with them. And before long, they asked if we could
Mum was left with three children and nowhere to go. Our father took the money from selling our flat and
