Harlan Covington

Marrying a Disabled Man: A Heartfelt Story Thank you all for your support, your likes, your thoughtful comments and reviews on my stories, your subscriptions, and a HUGE thank you from me and my five kitties for all your generous donations. If you enjoy my stories, please share them on social media—it means so much to this author! Late one evening, Lucy returned home from her shift as a nurse in the trauma ward. She spent ages in the shower and finally came into the kitchen in her dressing gown. “There are cutlets and pasta in the pan,” her mum said, peering at her daughter’s face, trying to figure out what was wrong. “Tired, Lucy? Why the long face?” “I’m not hungry. I’m already ugly enough—if I eat any more, no one will ever look at me,” Lucy muttered, pouring herself some tea. “Oh, don’t be daft!” her mum fussed. “You’re perfectly fine—clever eyes, a normal nose and lips—don’t put yourself down, Lucy!” “All my friends are married, but not me! Only the bad eggs seem interested in me, and the good ones don’t even glance my way. What’s wrong with me, Mum?” Lucy scowled, waiting for an answer. “You just haven’t met your fate yet, love. Your time will come,” her mum tried to reassure her, but Lucy only grew more agitated. “No, Mum, it’s all the ‘pretty eyes’—mine are tiny. My lips are thin, my nose… just look at it! If I had money I’d get plastic surgery, but we’re poor, so I’ve decided I’ll marry one of those disabled blokes at the clinic—ones who got dumped after accidents. What else am I supposed to do? I’m thirty-three already, time’s running out!” “Oh, don’t say that, Lucy. Look at your own dad, his legs aren’t great. I’d hoped for a son-in-law who’d help out at the allotment—now that would really help us. How will we manage otherwise?” her mum blurted out, then hastily tried to explain. “Don’t get me wrong, but not everyone lives the high life—why tie yourself down with a disabled man? Shurley, next door, is a good lad, always had his eye on you! He’s strong, he’d give you healthy children—” “Mum, honestly, not you too. Your Shurley can’t hold down a job, likes a drink, and what would I talk to him about?” Lucy protested. “What do you need to talk about? I’ll tell him to dig the garden, then we’ll have tea, or he’ll pop to the shop. He’s hardworking, you know—maybe it would work out?” her mum pleaded, but Lucy just pushed away her half-finished tea and stood up. “I’m going to bed, Mum. I thought you saw me as a person, but just like everyone else, you think I’m a freak…” “Lucy, darling—” her mum rushed after her, but Lucy only waved her hand. “That’s it, Mum!” She closed the door to her room right in her mother’s face. Lucy lay awake, thinking of the young man they’d brought in recently, who’d lost his leg below the knee. A building had collapsed, trapping his leg; by the time they pulled him out it was too late to save it. No one visited him—he was young, not thirty yet. At first, after his operation, he’d looked at Lucy with pleading eyes, holding her hand, searching her face for hope. Once he’d understood what had happened, he just stared up at the ceiling in silence. For some reason, she felt sorrier for him than for anyone else. “Do you think I’ll ever walk again?” he asked her quietly during a recent night shift, still not looking at her. “Of course you will—the wound will heal, you’re young!” Lucy replied, determined and confident. “Everyone says that. I’d like to see you manage without a leg—what sort of life is that?” he snapped, turning away from her as if she were at fault. “And what were you doing in that building anyway?” Lucy retorted. “No one to blame but yourself!” “I… I saw something,” he mumbled, turning his face to the wall for the rest of her shift. Lucy often found herself thinking about him—his pale blue eyes like frosty ice chips, his handsome face. It was just so unfair. “You feel sorry for me, don’t you?” he caught her eye one morning. “I can see it. No one could love me now—pity is all I’ll get.” “They don’t love girls like me either, not really, even though my arms and legs are all there. I’m just not right somehow—not even pity, really. Might as well be missing a limb—at least then someone would feel sorry for me,” Lucy shot back, the words coming faster as tears clouded her vision. Misha—his name was Misha—smiled at her for the first time. “You? Not pretty? Are you kidding? I envy the bloke you’ll choose, honestly.” Lucy gazed at him, and, somehow, she believed him. She blurted out the question she’d wanted to ask him for weeks, “And if I chose you, would you marry me? You’re not saying anything, so you must be lying!” She made for the door, face flushed. Misha propped himself up on his elbows, as if to run after her. Realizing he couldn’t, he called out after her, “Marry me, Lucy! I swear, soon nobody will even notice my leg. I’ll recover, just don’t go, Lucy…” Lucy and Misha. She paused in the corridor, close to tears, but felt, with a sudden certainty, that this was HIM. It didn’t matter if her nose was squat or his leg was missing—this was fate. Her time had come, as her mum had always said. Misha tackled rehab with fierce determination. He had a goal: He wanted to marry this wonderful girl and needed to get back on his feet for their future together. He couldn’t stand the thought of Lucy feeling unwanted—she was everything to him. “You’re in love, aren’t you, sweetheart?” her mum asked slyly a few weeks later. “Just look at you glowing!” Lucy didn’t argue—she floated through the house on cloud nine, only wishing that Misha would master his prosthetic soon. They began to stroll for hours—first in the hospital courtyard, then through snowy, festively lit December streets. “That’s the spot where the house collapsed on me,” Misha pointed out one evening. “And what were you doing in there, anyway? You never told me,” Lucy reminded him. “You’ll laugh. I’d spotted a stray puppy—thin, black, with white patches. I thought I’d rescue him, bring him home—didn’t want to live alone…” Suddenly, a scruffy dog crept toward them, wary but hopeful. “That looks like him!” Misha exclaimed, and the dog trotted along with them all the way home. “At least Lucy’s found herself a handsome younger husband—with a flat and no mother-in-law!” her friends joked at her wedding. Lucy’s mum even shed a tear when Misha started calling her “Mum” too. Misha, raised in foster care, had no family at all. But he was kind and loving—and most importantly, he and Lucy truly loved each other. Happiness, at last. Who cared about the allotment? Although, as it turned out, Misha was willing to help with everything, and always did well! For now, Lucy, Misha, and their dog Kuzma live together. But there will soon be four of them—their daughter is on the way… Never give up—otherwise, you might miss out on the happiness that’s just around the corner. After all, life is so wonderfully unpredictable…

Marrying a Cripple. A Story Thanks for your support, for your likes, your thoughtful comments, for sharing

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How to Get Your Husband Back in Line: A Tale of Love, Illness, Five Cats, Fresh Starts, and Finding Your Own Voice

Taming the Husband. A Story Thank you for your support, for all the likes, the comments, the shares

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A House Full of Uninvited Guests: Or, How Our Quirky Extended Family Turned My Dream of Quiet Countryside Living into a Never-Ending House Party

Uninvited Guests All Over the House Cant these lovely people find somewhere else to live? my wife inquired

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Future Mother-in-Law Ruins the Holiday: How My Fiancé’s Family Turned a Dream Trip to Thailand into a Comedy of Errors—and What I Learned About My Future Husband Before the Wedding

It was many years ago now, but I remember it as if it happened only yesterdayhow my future mother-in-law

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“I Gave Birth to Your Son, But We Don’t Want Anything From You” – The Mistress’s Call That Changed Everything Her husband looked at Lera like a beaten dog. “Yes, you heard right. Lera, I had someone else half a year ago. Just a few meetings, honestly. A fling, nothing more. And she had my son. Just recently…” Lera’s head was spinning—what a revelation! Her loyal, loving husband had a child on the side! It took all Lera’s focus to process what her husband had just told her. Minutes passed as she tried to comprehend. Her husband sat opposite her, shoulders slumped, hands clasped between his knees. He seemed smaller than usual, as if all the air had been sucked out of him. “A son, then,” Lera repeated. “So, you, a married man, have a son. And it wasn’t your wife who gave birth. Not me…” “Lera, I swear, I didn’t know—not until she decided to keep him. We split up months ago, she went back to her husband. I thought it had all ended. But yesterday, I got a call: ‘You have a son. Seven pounds. Healthy.’ And she hung up.” Lera stood; her legs felt weak, as if she’d just finished a marathon. Autumn raged outside—the scene out the window was beautiful, she noticed. “So what now?” she asked without turning. “I don’t know,” her husband replied. “Great answer, for a real man. The head of the family. ‘I don’t know.’” She spun around sharply. “Are you going to see them? The baby?” A frightened Nick looked at her from under his brow, embarrassed. “She wrote down the hospital’s address and told me the date of discharge. She said: ‘Come if you want. If not, don’t bother. We don’t need anything from you.’ Proud woman… She said she wanted nothing.” “Noble. Nothing at all, eh?” Lera echoed, irony in her voice. The front door banged—the older kids were home. Instantly, Lera pasted on a professional smile—a survival skill honed in the business world. Their eldest poked his head into the kitchen, tall and broad-shouldered. “Hey, you two. Why the gloomy faces? Mum, is there anything to eat? We’re starving from training.” “Manty in the fridge, heat it up,” Lera called. “Dad, you promised to look at my old car’s carburettor,” piped up the younger son. Lera watched them, heart tightening painfully. They called him Dad. Their real father had vanished years before, leaving only limping cheques and the odd Christmas card. Nick had raised them—taught them to drive, patched up knees, handled school crises. He was their father, truly. Nick managed a weak smile. “I’ll take a look, later. Let me finish talking with your mom.” After the boys left, Lera said quietly, “They love you. And you—” “Stop, Lera. I love them too. They’re my lads. I’m not going anywhere.” “It was a stupid mistake. Just a bit of fun. There was nothing real.” “Yeah, just a bit of fun—leading to nappies and milk bottles!” Lera snapped. Suddenly, six-year-old Masha flew into the room, breaking Lera’s last defences. She leapt into her father’s lap. “Daddy! Why are you sad? Did mum tell you off?” He hugged her tight, burying his face in her blonde hair. Lera knew he would do anything for their daughter. His love was total, unconditional. “No, princess. We’re just discussing grown-up things. Go watch some cartoons—I’ll be there in a moment.” When Masha skipped out, silence filled the kitchen again. “You realise everything changes now?” Lera asked, as she sat. Nick shook his head. “I’m not leaving. I love you. The kids. I can’t live without you all—” “Those are just words, Nick. The fact is: you have a son out there. He’ll need a father. That woman—she says she needs nothing, for now. Give it a month—or a year. The child will need things. You’ll get a call: ‘Nick, he needs a winter coat. Nick, the doctor said—’ And you’ll go. Because you’re kind. And you’ll find the money.” She watched as he flinched. Nick’s business had collapsed; Lera’s income supported the whole family, even his credit cards were in her name. “And the money, Nick? Where will you get it?” “I’ll manage somehow,” he muttered. “How? Late-night Uber jobs? Or dipping into my purse to fund your love child’s upkeep? Can you picture the absurdity—me supporting our family, while you use my money to support your lover’s baby?” “She isn’t a lover!” “Babies tie people together stronger than marriage certificates, Nick. Are you going to the hospital?” Nick rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t know, Lera. Honestly. Morally, I feel I should. The baby’s not to blame.” “Oh, I see—‘morally.’ And what about us? Your moral duty to Masha? The boys?” Lera’s voice quivered. “If you go, you’ll hold him—you’ll melt. I know you. First weekly visits, then weekends. You’ll lie to me—more time spent away. We’ll wait here, for you…” She stood at the sink, turning the tap on and off, trying to collect herself. “She’s eight years younger, Nick. Thirty-two. She gave you a son, your own flesh and blood. My sons aren’t even yours by blood, though you raised them. But that one—he shares your blood. Don’t you think that matters?” Nick snapped, standing up. “Enough! I said I’m staying in the family. But I’m not heartless. My child was born—I can’t turn away. I’m in the wrong—but don’t blackmail me!” Lera froze, fear gripping her. If she told him to go, he would. Proud—stupidly proud. He’d go, penniless, to that other woman—where he’d be welcomed as a hero. And then she’d lose him for good. But she didn’t want to lose him. Despite the pain, the burning humiliation—she still loved Nick. And their children loved him. “All right. Sit down,” she said, quietly. “No one’s making you go.” He sat, breathing hard. “Lera, forgive me. I’m so bloody stupid.” “You are. But you’re our idiot,” she replied softly. The evening passed in a haze. Lera helped Masha with her schoolwork, did her own work—but couldn’t stop imagining the other woman. Young, beautiful, victorious. “We don’t want anything,” she’d said—playing the noble card. It wrenched something deep in Nick—a man’s pride. Of course he’d want to rush over. That night, Nick tossed and turned, while Lera lay awake. She was forty-five. Still beautiful and successful—but not young anymore. Youth was always waiting on the horizon, somewhere else. *** Morning was worse—Lera was still in a state. The boys gobbled breakfast and left. Masha, for once, was fussy. “Daddy, plait my hair! Mum always does it lopsided!” Nick took the comb. His big hands, more at home with a steering wheel or hammer, deftly parted and plaited thin blonde hair with determined concentration, tongue poking out. Lera drank her coffee, watching. Here he was—her husband. Familiar, warm, entirely hers. But somewhere out there was another child, who had as much claim on him. How could this be? “Nick,” she said when Masha ran off to dress. “We have to decide. Now.” He set the hairbrush down. “I thought about it all night,” he said. “And?” “I won’t go to the hospital.” Lera’s stomach twisted, though she didn’t show it. “Why?” “Because if I go, I’ll give her hope. I’ll give myself hope. And the baby, too. I can’t be a dad to two families. I don’t want to lie to you, or take time from Masha and the lads. I made my choice eleven years ago. You’re my wife; this is my family.” “And the other boy?” She was surprised at herself for asking. “I’ll support him. Financially—through proper channels, maintenance, a bank account, whatever she needs. But not visits—no. He’ll grow up not knowing me, rather than waiting for me on Sundays. That’s fairer.” Lera turned her wedding ring. “Are you sure? Won’t you regret it later?” “Of course I will. I’ll wonder about him, worry. But if I go there—I’ll lose all of you. You couldn’t bear it, and I don’t want you to hate me. I know my explanation’s messy…” He got up, came behind her, and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want another life. I have you, and the children. The rest—that’s the price for my mistakes. I’ll pay, but only with money. I can’t share my time, my care, my attention with that baby. Not now.” Lera covered his hand with hers. “Money, you say?” she half-smiled. “I’ll earn it. I’ll break myself to earn it. I won’t touch a penny of yours. This is my mess to clear up, Lera.” Lera felt a calm settle. Maybe he’d done wrong by her. But these were the words she needed: she wouldn’t share her husband—she didn’t care a jot about the feelings of “the other woman.” She got what she got—the consequences were hers. *** Nick never went to the hospital. For weeks after, the mistress bombarded his phone—angry, pleading, accusing him of not showing up. Nick made it clear: she could count on financial help, nothing more. After that, the mistress vanished. She never called again. And for Lera, that was all she wanted.

I’ve given birth to your son, but we want nothing from you, the mistress said when she rang.

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Gathered My Belongings and Stepped into the World, She Remarked with a Smirk

Laura packed her bag and walked out with a calm smile, typed her wife, Yesterday. Your affairs dont bother

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The Estranged Relative with a Sharp Edge

The overbearing kin How do you picture it, Mother? I asked, exasperated. Do you expect me to spend two

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Move to ‘Your Own Space’ – Declared the Husband

Move out to your own place, he told me, flatout. Victor started the serious talk over dinner.

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Daddy Didn’t Keep His Promise

You know, Natalie says to her daughter, choosing her words carefully. Grownups sometimes act even sillier

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Happy Souls Always Wear a Smile

You know how happy people always seem to have a smile? Well, Laura was staring out of her kitchen window