The morning caught us on a dusty road leading away from the village. In one hand, I held little Sophies tiny fingers, and in the other, a light suitcase filled more with broken hopes than belongings. The bus coughed and sputtered as it pulled away from the stop, carrying us far from the place where, just hours before, I had still believed in something. I left without even saying goodbye to Marcus. He was out fishing at dawn, just as hed excitedly described the night before. Through the grimy window, as fields rushed backward, I understood a simple, bitter truth: I had never met a man worth fighting for. And yet, it had all begun so beautifully, so blindingly romantic it took my breath away.
Marcus had crashed into my life during his final year at university. He wouldnt leave me alone, showering me with compliments, gazing at me with lovesick eyes that melted every doubt. He swore he loved me, that he couldnt imagine life without me or my four-year-old Sophie. His persistence, that youthful sincerity, chipped away at the ice around my heartstill raw from losing my first husband. Within three months, we were living together in my flat, brimming with plans and promises.
Alice, my love, hed say, eyes shining like bottomless lakes, once I graduate, well go to my village. Ill introduce you to my parents, my whole family! Ill tell them youre my future wife. Youll say yes, wont you? Hed pull me close, and the world seemed simple and clear.
Yes, of course, Id reply, a timid hope warming inside me. He spoke so often of his motherkind, welcoming, the soul of hospitality. I wanted to believe him. I needed to.
The village where Marcus grew up met us with a quiet evening sun. His entire family lived side by side, woven into the same patch of earth. I didnt know then about Emily, the local beauty whod loved him since childhood, the girl everyone assumed hed marry. Nor did I know about old Grandad Thomas, his fathers father, who lived nearby in a tumbledown cottage, often visiting to use their bathhouse since his own had crumbled. Grandad Thomas spent his days in quiet reflection, staring at the hill where his wife lay beneath a birch. He knew guests were cominghis grandson was bringing his bride-to-be.
The night before, Grandad Thomas had stopped by and found his daughter-in-law, Helen, in a foul mood.
Another row with Steven? he asked, bracing for another lecture.
But Helen, seeing him, spat out her bitterness first:
Our Marcus is getting married. Bringing her home tomorrow.
Aye, Steven told me. Good for the lad. Finished his degree, got a job. Time to settle before hes blown off course, Grandad mused.
Easy for you to say, Helen scoffed, her face twisting. But this onethree years older! With a child! As if there arent plenty of good village girls. Our Emily, for onepretty, hardworking, a nurse! And whos this one? No one knows where her child came from, what family shes got. Why saddle himself with someone elses burden? Hell have his own children! Mark my words, shes just thrilled to latch onto a graduate
Helen, its not our place, Grandad tried, but she wasnt listening.
Shed been simmering for days, nursing resentment toward Marcus and this stranger whod stolen him from the right girl. And so, she hatched her quiet, venomous plan: no effort, no feast, no smiles. Let this city girl see she wasnt wanted.
We arrived at dusk, weary but hopeful. Marcus glowed with happinessa year away from home, hed missed his family, these fields, this air. His mother opened the door. He burst in first, dropping his bags, while Sophie and I lingered on the threshold, waiting for an invitation.
Marcus! My boy! Helen clung to him as if afraid hed vanish, her gaze flickering over me and Sophiecold, assessing. Our graduate, finally home! She stressed our, her eyes slicing into me: *Not like some.*
Wheres Dad? Grandad?
At the bathhouse. Theyll be back. Theyve missed you, she said, again*only* you.
Then she looked at me, sweetly venomous.
So this is Alice? With the child? Her eyes dragged over me, slow and disdainful.
Come in, wash up. Marcus, show her around.
From the first words, I understood. Marcus, though, seemed deaf to the tone. Beaming, he took my hand and led me through the house. His father and grandad returned thenSteven gruff but honest, Grandad Thomas with gentle eyes. They hugged us all with a warmth that couldnt be faked.
About time you came home! Steven boomed. Helen, set the tabletheyve traveled far!
The meal was pitifully sparse. Marcus frownedhe knew what his mother was capable of. I barely ate, my throat tight with hurt. Resentment festered: *Why didnt he introduce me as his fiancée? Why let them dismiss me?*
Steven poured homemade wine, ready for a toast, but Helen cut in:
To Marcus! To his degree, his new job! Were so proud!
Toast after toast*only* for Marcus. As if Sophie and I didnt exist. And he he laughed, chatted, said nothing. Grandad Thomas watched us with sad understanding.
Sophie, exhausted, swayed in her seat. I whispered to Helen:
May I put her to bed?
She nodded curtly, leading me to a narrow cot in a tiny room.
Sleep here. The sheets are clean. The door slammed behind her.
I tucked Sophie in, listening to Helens loud proclamation outside:
She says shes tired*sleeping with the child.*
My heart shattered. I lay beside Sophie, silent tears slipping free. *Wheres the kind mother he described? Why doesnt he see this?* If I could, Id have left that instant. But the village was swallowed by night.
Marcus woke me with a touch.
Come to my room. Why cram in here? Ill move Sophie. Sorry about todayI got caught up. Well talk tomorrow, I promise. His whisper was tender, but empty.
I didnt sleep. By dawn, Id made my choice.
Breakfast was a strained pantomime of family harmony. Helen seethed as Steven doted on Sophie. Then, sighing dramatically, she said:
Well, Marcus, no more carefree days. Now youll work hard to provide *for someone elses child.*
Marcus just smiled, oblivious. Steven slammed the table.
*Helen!*
My patience snapped. And then Marcus, clueless, chirped:
Lets go see the village! The river! Well visit Grandad!
Outside, I poured out my hurt. He waved it off: Youre overreacting. Its just Mum. He didnt grasp the heart of itI didnt need him to fight. Just *one word* in our defense. But he stayed silent.
Dont fuss, love, he said, patting my shoulder. Well leave soon. Im fishing at dawnthe bites perfect!
At sunrise, he was gone. Helen cornered me in the hall, livid.
Marcus says youre leaving. Because of *you.* When will I see my son again? Youll keep him chained to your skirts, feeding you and your brat
I listened, strangely detached. No anger leftjust clarity. Smiling politely, I said:
My first husband was an officer. Honest, strong. He loved me more than life. Unlike your son, he *proved* it. Hed never let even his mother insult me or our child. His mum still treats me like a daughter. She bought my flatthe one Marcus lived inand already secured another for Sophie. I have two degrees, speak three languages, run two shops. I earn triple what Marcus does. So no, Helenhe wont be providing for us.
Her shock was palpable.
Thank you, I added softly. You showed me the truth. God doesnt make mistakes. I dont need a mother-in-law who sees me as a threat. Or a man who wont protect his family.
I packed calmly, woke Sophie, and left without a backward glance.
The bus rolled away. I closed my eyes. Ahead lay the road hometo real life, real love. Id learned my worth. And that was everything.
