Grace had always been the other woman. Luck had never favoured her in marriage. She remained single until her thirties, when she finally decided to find herself a man.
At first, she didn’t know Paul was married, but eventually, he stopped hiding it—once he realised she was attached, even in love. Yet Grace never blamed him. She only scolded herself for the affair, for her weakness. She felt worthless for not finding a husband in time, and time was slipping away. Not that she was unattractive—Grace was pleasant-looking, if a little plump, which perhaps added years to her appearance. Her relationship with Paul was going nowhere. She refused to stay the mistress, but she couldn’t leave him either. The thought of being alone terrified her.
One afternoon, her younger cousin, Simon, stopped by unexpectedly. He was in town for work, dropping in for a few hours—they hadn’t seen each other in ages. They ate lunch in the kitchen, chatting idly as they used to, about life, about everything. Grace confided in him, her voice breaking as she laid bare her tangled emotions.
Just then, a neighbour knocked, asking Grace to come over briefly—to admire some new purchases. She left for twenty minutes.
That was when the doorbell rang. Simon answered, assuming Grace had returned—except they hadn’t locked the door. And there stood Paul. Instantly, Simon knew who he was. Paul froze, face-to-face with a broad-shouldered man in joggers and a vest, mid-bite of a ham sandwich.
“Is Grace here?” Paul managed, lost for anything better to say.
“She’s in the shower,” Simon shot back smoothly.
“Sorry—and you are?” Paul stammered.
“Her husband. Common-law. For now.” Simon stepped closer, gripping Paul’s collar. “You wouldn’t be that married fancy man she told me about, would you? Listen here. If I catch you near her again, I’ll toss you down the stairs. Got it?”
Paul wrenched free and bolted.
Grace returned shortly after. When Simon recounted the encounter, she burst into tears. “What have you done? Who asked you to interfere?” She sank onto the sofa, hands covering her face.
“He won’t come back—and good riddance,” Simon said firmly. “Enough snivelling. I’ve got a proper bloke in mind for you. Widower from my village. Women swarm him, but he’s been turning them all down. Wants time alone. Here’s the plan: I’ll swing by after my trip. Be ready. We’ll go see him.”
Grace frowned. “Just like that? No, Simon—I can’t. He’s a stranger! It’s humiliating.”
“Sleeping with another woman’s husband is humiliating. Meeting a free man isn’t.” Simon shrugged. “We’re going. It’s my Lucy’s birthday anyway.”
Days later, they arrived in the village. Lucy had set up a feast in the garden by the shed—friends, neighbours, and Simon’s mate, the widower Albert. Grace knew most of them, but Albert was new.
After a warm evening of chatter, Grace returned to the city. Albert had been quiet, reserved. *Still grieving his wife, poor soul,* she thought. *Not many men have hearts like that.*
A week later, her doorbell rang unexpectedly. She opened it and froze—Albert stood there, clutching a bag.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he stammered. “I was in town—market errands. Thought I’d drop by.”
Grace ushered him in, baffled but polite. They sat for tea, dancing around small talk—weather, prices. As he rose to leave, Albert lingered in the hallway, fumbling with his coat.
Then, at the threshold, he turned suddenly. “If I walk out now without saying it, I’ll regret it.” His voice wavered. “Grace, I’ve thought of nothing but you all week. Swear it. Had to wait for the weekend just to come. Simon gave me your address…”
Grace flushed, gaze dropping. “We barely know each other…”
“That doesn’t matter. Unless… you find me repulsive?” His hands trembled slightly. “I’m no prize, I know. And I’ve got a little girl—eight years old. She’s with her gran now.”
Grace softened. “A daughter is a blessing. I’ve always wanted one.”
Encouraged, Albert took her hands and kissed her.
When he pulled back, tears glistened in Grace’s eyes.
“Did I upset you?” he asked, stricken.
“No—the opposite. I never expected… It’s sweet. Safe. I’m not stealing anyone’s man.”
From then on, they met every weekend. Two months later, they married and settled in the village. Grace found work at the nursery. A year later, their daughter was born.
Now two girls filled their home—both cherished, both loved. Grace and Albert seemed to grow younger with happiness, their bond deepening like aged wine.
At gatherings, Simon would nudge Grace, grinning. “What did I tell you? Best husband I could’ve picked, eh? You’re glowing. Trust your cousin—I know what’s good for you.”
Elena Shalamonova.
