Adrian lingered on old man Edwards words 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 unworn clothes in Sophies wardrobe reminded him of his loss more than the cemetery itself.
After a few months, the neighbours began dropping hints. “Adrian, theres a young widow moved to the marketperhaps youd like to meet her?” “Theres a quiet girl who comes to churchI could put in a word” But nothing moved him. Until one day, when Edward took him by the arm and led him to the house of a distant cousin, Jane.
Jane wasnt beautiful by the villages standards. She had a round face, a nose too large, and faded eyes, and her movements were slow. The women whispered, “Poor Adrian, after Sophie, look what hes settled for.” And so she was cruelly nicknamedthe plain wife.
But what people didnt see was her kindness. Jane cooked patiently, fetched water from the well without complaint, and, above all, 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 simpleno 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 more precious than any beauty.
At first, people looked at him with pity. “He only chose her so he wouldnt be alone.” “No luck with women, that one.” 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 closed his eyes, feeling the pain grow duller.
One day, Edward, his old friend, stopped by. He lingered in the doorway, watching Jane sew by the window and Adrian bring in firewood. Under his white moustache, he smiled 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, truly smiled. Maybe the village would always call her “the plain wife,” but to him, Jane was lifes unexpected giftproof that true beauty isnt in a face, but in the quiet it brings to your soul.
And in that quiet, Adrian felt he was finally living again.
