Adrian lingered long with old Edwards words echoing in his mind. You need a woman in the house. Aye, he knew the man was right. In the evenings, when he returned to his empty flat, the silence pressed upon him like a weight. The cold walls and the scent of unworn clothes left in Sophies wardrobe reminded him of his loss more sharply than the graveyard itself.
Months passed, and the neighbours began dropping hints. Adrian, theres a young widow at the marketperhaps you might call on her A quiet lass comes to church now and thenshall I put in a word? Yet nothing stirred him. Until one day, when Edward took him by the arm and led him to the cottage of a distant cousin, Jane.
Jane was not comely by the villages measure. Her face was round, her nose too broad, her eyes a dull shade, and her gait heavy. The women whispered behind their hands: Poor Adrian, after Sophie, look what hes settled for. And so the cruel name stuckthe homely wife.
But what folk did not see was her gentleness. Jane cooked with patience, drew water from the well without complaint, and above all, she knew how to listen. Adrian, who had gone months without a soul to share his grief, found in her a rare quietude.
Their wedding was simple, without flourish. Two witnesses, a vicar, and a few candles. Adrian felt no spark of passion, but something elsean anchor. And after years of storms, an anchor is worth more than any beauty.
At first, the villagers pitied him. He took her just to keep from being alone. No luck with women, poor fellow. But in time, 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 less sharp.
One day, Edward, his old friend, stopped by. He stood in the doorway, watching Jane sew by the window while Adrian stacked firewood. The old man smiled beneath his white moustache and murmured, Fair or plain, it matters not. What matters is youve found one another.
Adrian turned to him and, for the first time since the funeral, smiled truly. Perhaps the village would always call her the homely wife, but to him, Jane was lifes unexpected giftproof that true beauty lies not in the face, but in the peace one brings to the soul.
And in that peace, Adrian felt, at last, that he was living again.
