I didn’t break! The Perfect Wife
My partner left me when he found out I was pregnant. I guess I just didn’t realize he didn’t love me as much as I thought. Neither he, nor his parents, nor his sister—who was a close friend of mine—wanted to even look at their daughter, granddaughter, or niece. But I didn’t demand anything from them. Everyone made their choices: he found a new girlfriend, and I had my child without a husband.
Once my mother said: “Leave. I’ll let you back in if you have an abortion.” My mom raised me without a father. She didn’t want the same fate for her daughter. She had the right to feel that way. But I will never say anything like that to my daughter.
We’ll support each other. In our home, there will be no whining about money or a lack of male help. I had just finished university and started working, but managed to get a spot in student housing and even secured a small flat. I used my salary to buy some furniture and household items. I had nothing. Forget about juices and fruits for a pregnant woman!
I barely had enough for bread and milk. There was exhaustion, tears, and terrible sleep deprivation. But I didn’t want pity. I smiled. His friends would visit. I only spoke well of him, putting grievances aside. I needed all my strength for the baby I carried. Once I heard a phrase: nobody owes you anything. Harsh, but essentially true. Why should someone save me if I took responsibility for my life and that of my little one?
My daughter was born in December. We celebrated New Year’s together. My new student friends would gather, play guitar, drink tea, and help with baby chores. Little Mary did her part by eating, sleeping, and cooing happily in between. Many said our home was remarkably cheerful and light. And one day, I noticed a student started visiting more often and staying longer.
He was kind, capable, and, by the way, handsome. Jack was four years younger than me. I locked my heart away, forbidding myself from making plans, and enjoyed each moment we were together. Then I met his mom. She asked him for permission to visit us, and on the first day, she called me her daughter.
Now my husband and I live in a different dormitory. Everything in the room is his handiwork. He says I’m the perfect wife. My mom and I reconciled. She dotes on her granddaughter. On weekends we visit his parents in a nearby town. Mary rushes to her other grandma, and they’re inseparable for two days.
I shudder at the thought: if I had forced someone who didn’t love me to stay, would I have anything like this now? Just a husband ignoring me, a mother-in-law convinced I ruined her son’s life, guilt, and tears on my pillow.
Fate has given me much more than I asked for.
