You Just Don’t Realise What True Happiness Is — Half a million? — Karina reread the notification on her phone three times before the numbers made sense. — You took out a loan for half a million pounds? Dmitry was sitting on the sofa, glued to his smartphone, not even looking up. — Oh, that… Yeah, just a small thing. For Mum’s renovations. You know her plumbing’s a disaster, parquet’s warped, wallpaper peeling… — Wait. — Karina sank onto the edge of the armchair, her legs refusing to hold her. — You got a loan. For half a million. And gave it all to your mum. Without saying a word to me? Finally, Dmitry tore himself away from the screen. His face was sincerely perplexed, as if his wife was asking something completely obvious. — Karina, it’s Mum. She lives on her own, tiny pension. Who else would help her? — And talking to me about it? — Karina started shouting, unable to stop. — Asking my opinion? At least telling me? — You would’ve argued, — Dmitry shrugged. — And Mum needed it urgently. Four years. Four years she’d tolerated this woman who called every evening to ask what Dima ate for dinner. Who arrived unannounced and criticised the cleanliness of their flat. Who, at every family dinner, seated the guests so Karina ended up at the furthest corner of the table. — Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, — Dmitry continued, calm as ever. — We’ll manage. We’ll pay it off, it’s not that much. It’s family. The tears came hot and angry. Karina wiped them away with the back of her hand, mascara smudging across her cheeks. — Family? Am I family? Or am I just an add-on? Remember when your mum decided it was time to change our car and you sold ours without asking? When she threw my things out of the spare room because she ‘couldn’t sleep among someone else’s rubbish’? When, on my birthday, you two went off to buy her a new fridge? — All minor stuff, — Dmitry dismissed. — You’re just tired, you need a break. Karina looked at this man — tall, soft features, dimples she’d once found adorable. Now she saw a thirty-year-old child who couldn’t cut the apron strings. — We’ll manage, — he repeated, like a mantra. — Love conquers all. Karina stood up silently and walked to the bedroom. The two big holdalls — the ones she’d arrived with when she moved in — lay on the top shelf. She pulled them down, flung them on the bed, and started opening cupboards. Dmitry appeared in the doorway twenty minutes later, just as one bag was completely full. — What are you doing? Karina, this is stupid. You can’t be serious? She didn’t answer. Folded jumpers, jeans, underwear with care. Took down the jewellery box — gifts from her parents and friends, nothing from him. — Where will you go? To your mother? She’s in Manchester! She zipped up the second bag. Checked her handbag — passport, card, keys to her mum’s flat, just in case. — Karina, say something! You can’t just leave me. I love you! She gave him a long look. Then picked up her bags and left the flat. …The next morning, Karina stood in line at the registry office holding her completed divorce papers. It was drizzling outside, grey clouds hung low, but inside she felt calm. The decision was made. The first call came at half past two in the morning. Karina sprang up on her friend Lena’s sofa, confused about her surroundings. — We need to talk, — Dmitry panted, his words jumbled. — I understand now, I’ll change. Give me a chance. She hung up. Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. — Karina, I can’t live without you. You’re the meaning of my life. By morning there were forty-three messages. Each one lengthy, tearful confessions, promises, threats. “If you don’t come back, I don’t know what I’ll do.” “Mum says you’re just being difficult.” “I’ll always wait for you.” A week later, he started turning up at her office. Karina went out for lunch — there he was, by the sandwich stall. Walking to the tube after work — he was standing across the road. — Just passing by — Dmitry smiled, when Karina demanded an explanation. — Just wanted to see you. One evening, there was a knock at Lena’s flat. Karina opened the door expecting a pizza delivery. Dmitry stood on the doorstep with a bouquet of red roses. — One chance, — he whispered. — Nothing more. Karina silently closed the door. He stood outside for two hours until the neighbours threatened to call the police. She learned to live with it — like living with chronic pain. Not reading his messages, never answering unknown numbers, never glancing round in the street. She got a remote job, moved to a suburb where Dmitry could never just ‘happen by’. The divorce was finalised in three months. Karina left the court clutching the official papers, crying on the steps — not from grief, but relief. Those first months of freedom were terrifyingly empty. Karina was used to checking every decision, even when someone else always made the final call. Now she could buy any yogurt she pleased, without wondering if Elena Victoria would approve. She could watch any film, no one to say, “No respectable woman watches that.” She could breathe. Signed up for English classes — a long-held dream Dmitry considered “a waste”. Started yoga at sunrise, when the city’s just waking up. Took a weekend trip to Cambridge alone, wandered the streets and ate scones. After six months, the calls stopped. The messages too. Karina waited for trouble another month, then another, before letting herself relax. She joined a marketing agency — lively office, young team, vibrant projects. Life was beginning. …She met Andrew at a company party, dragged there by her workmate, Mary. — This is our lead programmer — Mary introduced the tall man in glasses. — Andrew, meet Karina from Marketing. He shook her hand — firm but gentle. Smiled — simply, no attempt to impress. — You hid from karaoke too? — he nodded at the stage where the finance director mangled “Don’t Stop Believin’.” — I’m saving my nerves, — Karina smiled. They talked all night — about books, travel, life’s strangeness. Andrew listened more than he spoke. Asked questions, waited for answers, never interrupted. Never told her how to live. When he learned she was divorced, he just nodded and changed the subject. …Six months later, they moved in together, choosing a bright, small flat in the city centre, high ceilings, view of a quiet courtyard. — Are you sure you like the flat? — Karina asked as they inspected it for the lease. — Should we see more? — Do you like it? — Andrew turned to her. — Yes. Very much. — Then let’s take it. Little things — being able to have an opinion that mattered — were worth more than any grand declarations of love. He proposed on the rooftop as the sun set, painting the sky gold and rose. Produced a small box, opened it — inside, a diamond ring sparkled. — I’m no good at speeches, — Andrew admitted. — But I want to wake up next to you every day. If you can put up with my snoring and my rubbish coffee. Karina laughed through her tears and nodded… …That May night started off ordinary. Andrew was stuck at work — urgent deadline, code bug. Karina was making pasta, humming to the radio, when the doorbell rang. Sharp, insistent, demanding. She looked through the peephole — and recoiled. Dmitry stood in the hallway. Pale, dark circles, crumpled shirt. Two years. Two years of silence — and now he was here. — Karina, open up! — he hammered at the door. — I know you’re in there! We need to talk! She grabbed her phone, dialled Andrew. Engaged. — We love each other! — Dmitry shouted through the door. — You can’t be with someone else! It’s wrong! The door shuddered — he threw his weight against it. Karina braced her back to the wood, feet on the floor. — Go away! — she yelled. — I’ll call the police! — You’re my wife! — his voice hit a shriek. — You were mine, you’ll always be mine! Two years I’ve waited for you to see sense! Two years! — We’re divorced! It’s over! — Nothing’s over! — another shove, she barely held the door. — I’ve changed! Mum says you just don’t realise your own happiness! Open the door, let’s talk! She watched his distorted, obsessed face through the peephole — not the man she’d once shared a bed with. Karina picked up her phone and dialled 999. — Dima! One press and the police will be here. Leave. Now. Dmitry froze. Silent for a few seconds. Then turned sharply and stomped down the stairs. The building door crashed below. Karina slid to the floor, ears ringing. Only half an hour later could she call Andrew. She filed a police report the next day. The officer — grey-haired, moustached — took her statement, listened, nodded. — We’ll sort it. Have a word. Whatever he said to Dmitry, Karina never knew. But after that, her ex-husband vanished. No calls, no texts, no accidental meetings. …They married in June, a small countryside restaurant — twenty guests, just close friends. No fuss, no groom’s family demanding traditions. Karina stood opposite Andrew in a simple white dress, her hands in his. Birch trees rustled outside, the country air thick with flowers and fresh-cut grass. — Do you… — the celebrant began. — I do, — Karina interrupted, and the guests laughed. Andrew slipped a slim gold ring onto her finger. Inside, three words engraved: “Forever with you.” Karina looked up at the man who would be her husband. Not a mummy’s boy, not an obsessed stalker. Just a man who knew how to listen, respect, and love. Ahead was a life where her voice finally mattered…

You simply dont know whats good for you

Fifty thousand pounds? Caroline stared at the notification on her phone and read it three times before the numbers made sense. You took out a loan for fifty thousand pounds?

David sat on the sofa, engrossed in his own mobile, not even glancing up.

Oh, that. Yes, its nothing, just for Mums renovations. You know, her pipes are leaking, the floorboards have warped, the wallpapers gone mouldy

Wait. Caroline sank onto the edge of the armchair; her legs wouldnt hold her. You arranged a loan. For fifty thousand. And handed everything over to your mother. Without even telling me?

David finally looked up, his face baffled, as though his wife were asking something painfully obvious.

Its my mum, Caroline. She lives alone, her pensions tiny. Who else is going to help her?

And what about discussing it with me? Caroline shouted, unable to stop. Asking my opinion? Warning me at least?

Youd just have argued, David shrugged. But Mum needed it straight away.

Four years shed endured this woman: the phone calls every evening to check Davids supper; the unannounced visits, always criticising the state of their flat; the family dinners arranged so Caroline was stuck at the far end of the table.

Dont make a mountain out of a molehill, David continued, just as calmly. Well manage, well pay it off quickly, its a small amount, really. Its family.

Hot, furious tears spilled. Caroline wiped them away with the back of her hand, smudging her mascara.

Family? What about meam I not family? Or just an accessory? Remember how your mother decided we needed a new car, and you sold ours without even asking me? When she threw my things out of the guest room, because she couldnt sleep surrounded by strangers clutter? How you spent my birthday picking out her new fridge with her?

Its all small stuff, David waved it away, Youre just tired, you need a break.

Caroline looked at the man shed once found so sweettall, gentle-featured, with dimples she used to adore. Now she saw only a thirty-year-old child unable to cut the apron strings.

Well be fine, he repeated, like a spell. Love conquers all.

Caroline got up in silence and walked to the bedroom. Her two big sports bags sat on top of the wardrobethe same ones shed brought with her years ago. She pulled them down, tossed them on the bed, and began opening cupboard after cupboard.

David appeared at the door twenty minutes later, when the first bag was crammed full.

What are you doing? Caroline, dont be silly. Youre not serious?

She didnt reply. She folded jumpers, jeans, underwear neatly. Lifted down a jewellery boxgifts from parents and friends. Nothing from him.

Where will you go? To your mum? Shes in Manchester!

She zipped the second bag. Checked her handbagpassport, bank card, keys for her mothers flat, which shed kept just in case.

Caroline, say something! You cant just leave me. I love you!

She looked at him for a long moment. Then picked up her bags and walked out.

the next morning, Caroline was standing in the queue at the registry office, clutching her completed application for divorce. Outside, the rain drizzled, grey clouds hanging low over the roofs, but inside she was oddly calm. The decision was made.

The first call came at half-past two in the morning. Caroline sat up on Lenas sofa, struggling to remember where she was.

We need to talk, David panted down the line, rambling. I understand now, Ill change. Please, give me a chance.

She hung up. Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again.

Caroline, I cant do this without you. You are the meaning of my life.

By morning, she had forty-three messages. Each one long, tearful, full of promises and threats.

If you dont come back, I dont know what Ill do.
Mum says youre just being difficult.
Ill wait for you forever.

A week later, he started turning up outside her office. Caroline would step out for lunch and see him by the kebab van across the street. Leave for the Underground after work and spot him on the opposite pavement.

Just happened to be passing, David would smile when she demanded an explanation. Just wanted to see you.

One evening, the doorbell rang at Lenas flat. Expecting the pizza delivery, Caroline didnt check the peephole.

David was there, clutching a bouquet of red roses.

One chance, he whispered. Thats all I ask.

She closed the door wordlessly. He stood on the doorstep for two hours, until the neighbours threatened to call the police.

She learned to live with itthe way people adapt to chronic pain. Not reading the messages, not answering unknown numbers, not looking over her shoulder in the street. She changed jobs, found a remote role in another firm, moved out to a suburb where David would never go by chance.

The divorce came through after three months. Caroline walked out of the courthouse holding the official certificate and burst into tears on the stepsnot from sorrow, but relief.

Those first months of freedom were daunting in their emptiness. Caroline was so used to checking every decision with someone elseeven if that someone went ahead regardless. Now she could buy any yoghurt she liked at the shop, without worrying if Mrs Harding approved. Choose to watch any film, no longer hearing, decent women wouldnt watch that. She could breathe.

She enrolled in English classesa long-held dream, never realised because David said it was a waste of money. Started early morning yoga classes, before the city woke. Spent a weekend in Bath by herself, no plans, just walked the streets and tried every local fudge.

Six months later, the calls stopped. The messages too. Caroline waited for the catch, another month, then anotherfinally, she relaxed. She landed a job in a marketing agencybright offices, a young team, interesting work. Life was coming together.

She met Andrew at a work partyher colleague Martha dragged her along.

This is our star developer, Martha said, introducing a tall guy in thin-rimmed glasses. Andrew, meet Caroline from Marketing.

He shook her handfirm but gentle. His smile was simple, with no hint of show.

Did you escape the karaoke as well? he nodded at the CFO, mangling Bohemian Rhapsody on the stage.

Had to spare my nerves, Caroline smiled.

They talked for hoursbooks, travel, how odd life was. Andrew listened more than he spoke, asked questions and waited for answers. He never tried to instruct or explain how she ought to live. When he learned she was divorced, he simply nodded and changed the subject.

Six months later, they moved in together, choosing a flat in the centresmall, sunny, high ceilings, a view over a quiet courtyard.

Are you sure you like this one? Caroline asked as they viewed it before signing. We could look at a few more

What about you? Andrew turned to her.

I really do.

Then lets take it.

Small thingsthe right to an opinion that is actually consideredmeant more than all those grand declarations of love.

He proposed on the rooftop of their building, as the sun set and the sky glowed pink and gold. Produced a small box, opened ita diamond ring inside.

Im hopeless at speeches, Andrew confessed, but I want to wake up beside you every day. If you dont mind the snoring and my weak spot for dreadful coffee.

Caroline laughed through tears and nodded

That May evening was perfectly ordinary. Andrew was held up at worksomething urgent with the code, a looming deadline. Caroline was making pasta, humming along to the radio when the doorbell rangsharp, insistent.

She glanced through the peepholeand recoiled.

David stood in the hallway. Pale, sleepless, shirt creased. Two years. Two years of silence, and here he was.

Caroline, open up! His fist hammered the door. I know youre there! We need to talk!

She grabbed her phone and called Andrew. Busy.

We love each other! David yelled through the door. You cant be with someone else! Thats not right!

The door shook under the force of his shoulder. Caroline braced her back against the panel, feet on the floor.

Go away! she shouted. Ill call the police!

Youre my wife! his voice nearly screamed. You were mine and you will be! Ive waited two years for you to come to your senses! Two years!

Were divorced! Its over!

Its not over! he shoved again, barely held back by the door. Ive changed! Mum says you just dont know whats good for you! Let me in, lets talk!

In the peephole, his face was twisted, obsessed. No trace of the man shed once shared a bed with.

Caroline dialled three numbers.

David! One more click and the police will be here. Leave, now.

He froze. Several seconds passed in silence, then he turned abruptly and stomped down the stairs. The main door slammed below.

Caroline slid down to the floor, heart pounding, head swimming. Only after half an hour did she manage to call Andrew.

The police took her statement the next day. The local constablea kindly older man with a moustachewrote everything down, nodded.

Well sort it out. Ill have a word.

What he said to David, Caroline never knew. But after that, her ex vanishedno calls, no messages, no chance encounters anywhere near home.

They held the wedding in early June, a tiny country restauranttwenty friends, no fuss. No relatives from the grooms side demanding tradition.

Caroline stood opposite Andrew in a simple white dress, her hands wrapped around his warm ones. Outside, the birch trees rustled, the air scented with flowers and cut grass.

Do you agree the celebrant began.

I do, she interrupted. The guests laughed.

Andrew slipped a slim, gold ring onto her finger. Inside, it was engraved: Always with you.

Caroline looked up into the eyes of the man who would be her husband. Not a mummys boy, not a tormentorjust a man who knew how to listen, to respect, to love. Ahead of them lay a life in which her opinion mattered.