“Hania’s Ill Again, I Need to Go to the Chemist.” – “She Was Ill Recently. Are You Lying to Me?”

Emmas unwell, I need to pop to the chemist. She was poorly just recently. Are you lying to me?

David arrived home absolutely knackered. With the holiday season coming up, clients were running him off his feet with impossible demands. The flat was eerily quiet, and his girlfriend was glued to her phone.

Where have you been? asked Emily.

At work, of course. Loads of clients today. Im shattered

He wandered into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. All he could find was a limp salad and some lean turkey burgers. Hed have killed for a nice shepherds pie. Emily never cooked hearty food, always keen to keep her figure. Shed been very clear about not signing up to be anyones housewife. David sat down reluctantly, but right then a message arrived from his ex-wife: their daughter was ill, and she needed some medicine. He dropped everything and began to pull on his coat.

And where are you off to? Emilys voice had a sharp edge to it.

Emmas not well, so Im popping down to the chemist.

She was ill not long ago as well. Are you sure youre telling the truth?

Kids at nursery are always catching things, you wouldnt understand.

David had had enough of these accusations. Emily was always so put out whenever Emma needed him; sulking and giving him the cold shoulder. Fifteen minutes later, he was at his ex-wifes flat. Charlotte greeted him at the door and offered him a cup of tea hard to say no, since he hadnt even managed a proper dinner. David hugged his daughter and settled down to watch cartoons with her.

Just a year ago, theyd been an ordinary family. Then he made a dreadful mistake swapping his wife and child for a fleeting temptation, a moment of weakness that now gnawed away at him.

Everything started off well, but the mounting strains of home life, Emmas frequent illnesses, and money troubles cracked the marriage. David ended up working round the clock, completely spent. It was then that Emily came along and quickly turned his head. He tried to forget, tried to cut ties, but word got out, and soon enough Charlotte found out everything.

Charlotte couldnt forgive him she filed for divorce. Thats how he lost his greatest treasure: his family. Still, despite it all, Charlotte always made sure David could see his daughter; their bond was strong, and she never stood in the way. David was willing to drop everything for them, any time they needed help.

While Emma took her medicine, David watched Charlotte across the room. She looked different now, somehow even more beautiful and vibrant than before. She must have met someone. After putting Emma to bed, they sat together in the kitchen. Charlotte made David a proper meal and brewed his favourite tea she still remembered. David missed home-cooked food and the warmth of a real family, and in those moments, all he could think about was the mess hed made. What a fool hed been. He had no excuse.

Even though it was past midnight, David dreaded the thought of returning home. Lately, Emily only irritated him, always nitpicking and complaining. But here, everything just felt right comfortable and familiar, like a real home.

David looked at Charlotte once more, longing to hold her close. It wasnt just desire; it was a craving for that soul-deep warmth. Hed have given anything to win her back. At that moment, he felt like a teenager again, desperate yet nervous, as if on a first date and too afraid to go in for a kiss.

He finally plucked up the courage to reach for Charlottes hand, but just then, his phone rang. It was Emily.

Right, its late. Id better get some rest, Charlotte said quietly.

Of course goodnight.

Charlotte went off for a shower, but David decided to stay. When she came back, she looked surprised.

Emma woke up for a bit, so I stayed with her, he explained.

Thank you, Charlotte replied softly, offering a small smile.

David hurried over, blurting out, I want to be here with you.

Why, David? Dont. Weve both moved on thats all well and truly done.

You speak of grudges, but I still love you.

David, Ive learned to live without you. Please go. If not, Ill never ask for your help again.

David left the flat, lying down on the sofa at home, careful not to wake Emily. He realised then that he felt nothing for her anymore, and it was clear they needed to call it a day.

In the morning, when David broke the news to Emily, she went mad. She couldnt believe he was leaving her so young, so beautiful.

Its all because of her! You always loved her!

Emily was gone. Now, all that was left was to thaw the ice in his ex-wifes heart.

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“Hania’s Ill Again, I Need to Go to the Chemist.” – “She Was Ill Recently. Are You Lying to Me?”
An Unexpected Joy At the department in the university, no one among the colleagues would have believed that Valeria Evans’s husband was a hopeless alcoholic. It was her sorrowful secret and bitter burden. …Valeria Evans was a lecturer, a senior lecturer, and head of the department. At work, she was greatly respected as a specialist. Her reputation was impeccable. Everyone thought Valeria had it all, in every sense. How could they not? Her husband often met her at the university gates so they could walk home arm in arm. “Well, Valeria, you are such a lucky woman! Your husband is so distinguished, attentive, well-bred, handsome…” the younger staff members would sigh admiringly. “Oh girls, don’t be jealous!” Valeria would deflect. Only she knew what her ‘gentleman’ became at home. Victor drank himself senseless, staggering in filthy and barely human, unable even to fit the key into the door, falling asleep in the hallway. Valeria dragged him in, covered him with a throw (so he wouldn’t freeze), and retreated to her dissertations—first the PhD, then her doctorate. She always left a jug of water nearby to silence his midnight cries: “Val! Water… Water!” Each morning, she simply stepped over him, went to work, and brought kindness, knowledge, and reason to her students—a cycle that might last a week, a month… And one day, Victor would be waiting again at the university steps, the picture of sobriety, to walk his wife home. Clean, pressed, and smiling. As Valeria exited, surrounded by colleagues, Victor would rush over, peck her cheek, and ask: “How was your day, love?” “All right, Vic. Let’s go home,” Valeria would sigh quietly, as the staff looked on, charmed by this “perfect couple.” “Valeria’s so lucky with her husband…” they’d remark. But inside those doors, Valeria fell silent—her quiet revenge. She knew silence was powerful, and Victor suffered under the weight of her accusing hush, though over the years, he adapted. He’d walk her home, then scuttle off “on business”—to drink again. …Valeria and Victor had been married for twenty-eight years. Their love was once mutual, tender, seemingly everlasting. Then, like down feathers from a pillow, it scattered—impossible to catch or piece together. …Early in their marriage, they struggled to have a child. Valeria fretted, sure a family without children was incomplete. At last, a son was born: Dimitri, the light of her life. Money was tight; Victor left all housework and childcare to Valeria, saving his energy for sneaking drinks. Exhausted, she only caught on to his wrongdoings later; young and naïve, she was too busy to notice. She was stunned the day she found a bottle on the balcony. “Vic? Whose is this?” Valeria asked. “Take a guess,” Victor joked. There were rows. Tears, pleas, threats—the usual script. …Years passed. Victor drifted in and out of jobs, always losing them to his drinking. He offered little hope, but Valeria never divorced—her mother’s words echoing: “Darling, you only marry once! The first husband is from God, the second from the Devil. Even if he’s made of straw, he’s yours. There’s no father dearer to a child.” Valeria dreaded a “Devil’s husband.” She climbed her career ladder, knowing she could rely only on herself. She became oddly used to Victor’s “episodes,” almost pitying him—nothing more. Everything inside her had dried up and died. Her pride was Dimitri. He grew into a catch—finding his first love at fourteen, another at nineteen, and so on. Too fond of romance, he’d bring home a new girlfriend just as she’d gotten used to the last. One girl, Anna, stayed five years. Valeria grew to love her and called her “daughter-in-law.” The family urged a wedding, but Anna just shrugged: “I’m ready. Dima’s the one waiting…” At last, Anna vanished. Dimitri soon introduced Lena, no older than eighteen: “She’ll live with us. We’re in love,” he announced. Valeria protested, demanding Anna back. Offended, Dima and Lena left. For the first time, Valeria realized she truly missed Anna—five years was no small thing. “A player, my son. At least he doesn’t drink…” she consoled herself. A month later, Dima returned—alone. When Valeria asked after his ‘latest love,’ he revealed Anna had two children she kept secret, visiting them whenever she claimed she was at her mother’s. Her ex-husband had told Dima. Valeria defended Anna: “Maybe she still loves you, Dima. Sometimes life just turns out that way. It’s the children who suffer; they just need love.” Dima smiled: “She’s still a good person, Mum.” …A year passed. Victor died of cirrhosis after months of agony, tearfully asking Valeria and Dima’s forgiveness before he went. At the grave, Valeria told her son, “Do you know how many years and nerves your father cost me? For every bottle he drank, I shed a tear. And yet, I’d go through it all again, just to have him back. That’s love for you…” As she wept openly, her son quietly walked her home. At the university, Valeria finally confided, “I’m alone now. Dima has his own busy life—I only wish he’d give me a grandchild. That would make it all easier. How do you go on? Where to find the strength?” …Another year flew by. Valeria retired. She still missed waiting on the steps for Victor—hard to believe the past would never repeat. December’s end brought the usual flurry. Everyone was anticipating a miracle! On New Year’s Eve, Valeria was alone—tree trimmed, salad and mandarins on the table, champagne poured. “Maybe Dima will stop by… perhaps he’s fallen in love again… Will he ever settle down?” The doorbell rang. Valeria started—her son had his own key. She peered out: “My goodness, Anna!” Valeria flung open the door and hugged her unexpected guest. Only then did she spot the tiny girl beside Anna. Flustered, she fetched food and tea. Anna settled the girl to sleep. And looking closely, Valeria suddenly saw… Dima’s face, in miniature. “Well, Anna—what’s brought you here?” “Mrs. Evans—I need to confess something,” Anna began. “I know it all, dear. Dima told me. Out with it…” “She’s your granddaughter,” Anna whispered. “I guessed. Dima’s girl, right? He won’t turn her away. But what now?” “Could she stay here for a while? I’ve reconciled with my husband, but he won’t accept Veronica—says he has his own to raise first. I’m in a fix. Please, help me!” Anna pleaded. “What a New Year’s present you’ve given me,” Valeria mused. “You’re retired now—no time for boredom, I promise! I’ll come often. Her name is Veronica. She’s sixteen months old,” Anna pleaded. …By morning, Anna was gone. On the table: a note. “I love you, Mrs. Evans! Happy New Year! Love to Dima.” Next to it: a bag of Veronica’s things and documents—“Veronica Dimitrievna.” “She takes after the family. Well, Victor is gone—and now Veronica has come,” Valeria said with a sad smile. She kissed her sleeping granddaughter’s forehead. “My unexpected joy!” …Veronica started Year One. She called Valeria “Gran,” and Dima “Dad.” He doted on his daughter Nicky—and still chased his unattainable happiness. Anna never visited again…