Olivia brought some furniture with her when she moved in with me. As soon as she put her table near my house, she decided she needed a break. I didn’t know it would always be this way: I would do everything, and she would rest. One morning, she complained I woke her up preparing breakfast. That made me feel unwelcome.

 My first wife died a few years ago. Our children had grown and lived separately. I lived alone in the house, not daring to have a romantic relationship. I worked at the district center, a few kilometers from the village. I was often told that I was not old enough. I want to date a woman, but where would I find one? Aside from work, I have never been anywhere.

The other day, on the way home, I stopped at the store to buy groceries, and as I was leaving, a woman was walking with huge bags; you could see how heavy it was for her, so I asked her if she needed help. We started talking, and it turned out she was Olivia. She had recently divorced her husband; he took everything away from her, and she moved to rent an apartment in the city. She told me she bought some things to make her apartment more comfortable. The woman claimed she felt very lonely because she had no friends or relatives. To be on the safe side, I gave her my phone number.

After a few weeks, I had forgotten about that case when suddenly Olivia called. She asked, embarrassed, if I could help her arrange the furniture that her ex-husband had given her. I agreed to come in after work. Since then, we have communicated more often, sometimes going for walks or drinking a coffee in a cafe during lunch break. Once Olivia complained about being evicted from her apartment because her landlady thought the condo was up for sale. After some thought, I invited her to move in with me. After all, she will have a place to live, and I will finally have a touch of a woman in my house. Maybe for the first time since my wife died, I will eat home-cooked food instead of eating out.

It didn’t take Olivia long to decide to move to my house. She quickly collected her belongings, and we were on our way in just a few days. She had a lot of stuff that required me to use my truck twice, and I also brought some furniture with me. As we began to move the items into the house, Olivia looked around my front yard and asked me to help her carry them. She told me she needed a break to help her bring everything in.

 Since it was a change of housing, it didn’t cause me concern, but assembling furniture and moving her belongings inside could be tiring. After that, I asked Olivia if we would have dinner. She said she felt sick and had to lay down, as I wanted to cook something for her. I started the scrambled eggs and figured it would take time for me to enjoy homemade food.

The following day, she rested, too, but in the garden. She asked me to hang a hammock and happily lay in the hammock with a book all day. When I arrived at work that evening, she complained that she had been lying all day and hadn’t even eaten. She asked me if I could cook something that tasted good for her. She was still adjusting to it, so I cooked again. I thought she needed a little time.

It would appear that Olivia stayed in bed and read all day. She said she could not cook; if she did, she would only ruin food, so I was better. She would not participate in cleaning. She said that the water in our town is too complicated and could hurt her hands. She also asked me to come home soon because she was too bored to stay at home alone for too long.

I remember one morning, as I was preparing breakfast for myself in the kitchen on my way to work, an enraged Olivia came running out of the kitchen. She was screaming and saying that I was making too much noise in the kitchen and that I was being selfish and horrible for not letting her sleep.

This made me feel very uncomfortable in my own home, so I told my colleague about it. He offered to pick up her things and take her to another place to stay. I found a suitable place for her and asked if it would suit her. Suddenly, she said I had acted like her ex and was selfish, but I was still insistent on her moving out of my house. That evening, with the help of my colleague, we removed her things, and I returned to my bachelor’s house to live alone.

I decided it was wise for me and myself; I would not make any further attempts to start a romantic relationship and would make sure my children came more often.

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Olivia brought some furniture with her when she moved in with me. As soon as she put her table near my house, she decided she needed a break. I didn’t know it would always be this way: I would do everything, and she would rest. One morning, she complained I woke her up preparing breakfast. That made me feel unwelcome.