Adrian kept the old man Edwards words in his mind for a long time. You need a woman in the house. Yes, he knew it was true. In the evenings, when he returned to his empty flat, the silence weighed heavily on him. The cold walls and the lingering scent of untouched clothes in Sophies wardrobe reminded him of his loss more than the graveyard itself.
After a few months, the neighbours began dropping hints. Adrian, theres a young widow moved to the market townperhaps youd like to meet her Theres a quiet girl who comes to church, I could put in a word But nothing moved him. Until one day, when Edward took him by the arm and led him to the home of a distant cousin, Jane.
Jane wasnt beautiful by village standards. She had a round face with a nose too large and faded eyes, and her gait was heavy. The women whispered behind their hands: Poor Adrian, after Sophie, look what hes ended up with. And so she was given the cruel nicknamethe plain wife.
But what people didnt see was her gentleness. Jane cooked patiently, fetched water from the well without complaint, and above all, she knew how to listen. Adrian, who for months had had no one to share his grief with, found in her a rare peace.
Their wedding was simple, without fuss. Two witnesses, a vicar, and a few candles. Adrian didnt feel the spark of passion, but he felt something elsean anchor. And after years of storms, an anchor is worth more than any beauty.
At first, people watched him with pity. He only chose her so he wouldnt be alone. No luck with women, poor man. But gradually, the whispers faded. Adrians house, once echoing with emptiness, now smelled of warm bread and dried herbs. On long winter evenings, Jane read to him in a soft voice from the old books Sophie had left behind, and Adrian would close his eyes, feeling the pain grow just a little less sharp.
One day, Edward, his old friend, stopped by. He lingered in the doorway, watching Jane sew by the window while Adrian brought in firewood. The old man smiled beneath his white moustache and murmured:
Pretty or plain, it doesnt matter. What matters is youve found each other.
Adrian turned to him and, for the first time since the funeral, smiled properly. Perhaps the village would always call her the plain wife, but to him, Jane was lifes unexpected giftproof that true beauty lies not in the face, but in the peace it brings to the soul.
And in that peace, Adrian finally felt alive again.
