Endure the Pain, Embrace the Love

Author Harlan CovingtonReading 4 minViews 2

Jane burst onto the aircrafts stairs and shouted at the top of her lungs,
Ed! Ill love you forever! Ill be back, just you watch!

She then slipped back into her seat, folded her hands on the tray and began to sob. Beside her sat her husband, Robert, staring intently out the window, utterly silent. Only the Almighty knew what swirled through his mind at that moment, but Robert would never lay a finger on Jane, nor whisper a nasty word. On his knee rested their twoyearold daughter, Poppy, who could barely fathom why her mum was wailing while Daddy said nothing to soothe her.

The plane set its course for Sydney. In the cabin were a parade of Janes and Roberts relatives, all of them heading for the promised land a new life down under, forever.

Back in Manchester, Jane had once been head over heels for a lad called Edward. Theyd studied together at university, and Jane was certain Edward would become her husband. Their romance grew hotter and deeper with each passing week. Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. Janes mother announced they were moving to Australia. Weve found a suitable match for you from the family circle, she declared, as if announcing the weather.

Jane laughed at the sudden news, but soon the matchmakers arrived with a suitor. When Jane caught sight of Robert, she slipped away from the gathering unnoticed. The proposed groom was a disaster, yet the relatives pressed ahead without her. Itll be a brilliant wedding! they chirped. A perfect pair!

Seeing her daughters distress, Janes mother tried to persuade her:
Sweetheart, we really must go! After that you can settle down with whoever you like. In fact, have you considered Robert? Hes sensible, clever a decent catch. You made a good impression on him, you know. Just be patient, love will follow.

Jane spilled the whole story to Edward. He shrugged and said, Jane, you cant go against the family. Im in the same boat. Looks like Im not meant to be. Just accept it.

Jane took him for a coward, thinking hed abandoned her without a fight. In desperation she married Robert.

There were tears, departures, and the occasional clatter of dishes, but Robert always treated his wife with generous forgiveness. He understood that you cant simply crush Janes affection for Edward; a husband must be won, not taken.

When Poppy was born, Jane threw herself into motherhood, which proved a temporary sanctuary. Her feelings for Edward lingered like a stubborn perfume.

At last, the relatives sorted the paperwork for the move abroad. Every suitcase was loaded, every label stuck. Edward, incognito, turned up at the airport to see Jane off. As Jane settled into the plane, she spotted Edward in the distance, waving a bouquet of daisies. Without a second thought she lunged onto the stairs, Edward flung the huge bunch at her, but the flowers scattered across the tarmac in the gusty wind.

The aircraft throttled forward, daisies strewn over the runway like a whimsical carpet.

Sydney. New South Wales. A fresh address. A brandnew life. A host of hurdles on the road to happiness. It would be many years before Jane and Robert could finally breathe easy. They had to learn Aussie slang, get used to the scorching climate, find jobs, and master a new way of doing things.

Some of the elders the grandparents would eventually pass on. Jane later gave birth to two more girls, Olivia and Carmel. Robert was always there, like a guardian angel, looking after his family, never leaving their side, handling every household chore with a grin.

Later, Robert and Jane toured Europe together, ticking off every landmark they could find.

On their silver wedding anniversary, surrounded by children and grandchildren, Jane confessed her undying love for her husband, and Robert admitted he still could hardly believe his endless good fortune.

Janes mother had been right after all: enduredandloved.

When Janes best friend from Manchester flew in for a visit and asked, So, have you forgotten Edward? (Hed never married, never found a bride), Jane blinked, smiled, and replied, Edward? Remind me who that is?

You’re the Older Brother, So You Must Help Your Little Sister — You Have Two Flats, Give One to Her! Not long ago, we celebrated my sister-in-law’s birthday. Alina has never been warm towards me, and the feeling has been mutual. All our relatives gathered for the occasion: grandparents, nieces, and the birthday girl herself. Every single one congratulated my husband on his sister’s birthday and expressed admiration for his supposed generosity. We accepted the congratulations with my husband, but couldn’t make sense of it. We held an envelope with a £100 gift, which seemed fine, if not exactly generous. The real surprise came when my mother-in-law started congratulating the birthday girl. “Mark, your sister’s birthday is today. She’s still single and without support, so as her older brother, you must look after her and ensure her safety. You’re the owner of two flats now, so you should give one to Alina.” Everyone started clapping, and I nearly fell off my chair in disbelief at the audacity. But that wasn’t the end. “Big brother, you’ll give me the one in the new building, right? When can I move in?” Alina chimed in. My husband and I do have two properties – one I inherited from my grandmother, which we fixed up and currently rent out. The rent goes towards our mortgage on the new flat, where we actually live. My husband has no claim to my inherited flat, which I’ve always planned to leave to our child – certainly not my sister-in-law. “Forget it – the flat we’re renting is mine, and the one you’re dreaming of is our home,” I said. “My dear, you’re mistaken,” my mother-in-law replied, “because you’re my son’s wife, and everything you have is shared property under his management.” “I’ve no objection to you helping your sister, but don’t touch my property,” I added. “Mark, do you have something to say?” “My love, you and I will earn more and buy another flat – let’s gift one to Alina, it is her birthday after all,” Mark insisted. “Are you serious?” I asked. “If it ever comes to that, you can give your sister a share of our flat – but only after we file for divorce!” “How dare you speak to your husband like that? If you want a divorce, you’ll have one!” his mother scoffed. “Son, you should pack and come home – you, my dear, are simply nasty and greedy!” After those words, I left that mad house, unwilling to stay amongst people who think they can dispose of my property as they please.

Everything Happens for the Best Margaret Evans—strong-willed mother of Lucy—moulded her daughter in her own image, and Lucy obeyed her every word. Margaret prided herself on being a successful, formidable woman, and constantly demanded Lucy follow her path without deviation. “Lucy,” Margaret would say sternly, “if you want to achieve what I have, you must go exactly where I lead you—don’t even think about straying. Do you understand?” “Yes, Mum,” Lucy would reply. Lucy loved her mother and always tried her best not to disappoint. Margaret longed for her daughter to become her ‘Miss Perfect’. Yet, the older Lucy grew, the harder that became. Kids will be kids—Lucy made messes, broke things, fell over, but at school she excelled. She knew one C-grade would be a tragedy for her mother. “Lucy, how could you get a ‘C’? What an embarrassment to your father and me—fix it, and quickly!” “Alright, Mum. But it’s just one C, it was an accident…” Lucy would try to protest. “It doesn’t matter, Lucy. You must be better and smarter than anyone.” Lucy would fret, but always made good on her grades, leaving school with top honours—no other way would do. Margaret was proud when Lucy got into university with ease. “Well done, my girl, I’m proud of you,” Margaret finally admitted one day. “But keep going just like this.” Margaret Evans ran a construction business—unusual for a woman, yet her iron will surprised even the toughest male tycoons. She never doubted Lucy would join her after university. Lucy longed to breathe freely, considered studying in another city, but to no avail. “You’ll stay under my supervision,” her mother snapped. “You can study here, at our local university.” Of course, Lucy couldn’t protest. In her third year, she fell properly in love. She’d dated boys before, sneaking about behind her mother’s back, but nothing serious. George, the charming blue-eyed blonde from a parallel class, won her heart. Lucy was a star student even at university, whereas George struggled, especially with coursework. One day he stopped Lucy in the corridor. “Lucy, I’m drowning here. Can you help me with this coursework?” “Of course!” she agreed, thrilled to help. From then on, Lucy did George’s coursework for him, and he paid her with his affection. They went out, watched films, dined in cafés. Margaret grew suspicious. “Lucy, have you fallen for someone?” “How did you know?” Lucy was startled. “It’s written on your forehead… Introduce us. I need to know what ’kind of bird’ he really is.” Lucy brought George home. Her parents were welcoming; even Margaret found little fault. But when he left, Margaret declared, “Lucy, he’s using you and nothing more. He doesn’t sparkle with intellect; there’s nothing to talk about. What on earth do you see in him?” “That’s not true, Mum,” Lucy finally argued. “George is ambitious and interested—he loves history. You just overshadow him with your intellect. Not everyone has to be like you, and he’s still young.” “He’s not your match,” her mother insisted. But Lucy held firm. “No matter what you say about George, Mum, I will love and see him anyway.” Margaret looked sharply at Lucy, waving her off. “You’ll see, Lucy, he’s just a nobody.” Lucy persisted, and, after university, married George, convinced her mother had got him wrong. Life proved that ordinary C-students can get ahead faster than straight-A students. That’s how it happened for George: after graduating, he landed a prestigious job, while Lucy worked under her mother’s wing. George had his own flat—his parents gave it to him before uni—so after the wedding, Lucy was glad to finally be free from her mother’s intrusion. But her mother got her a job in her company anyway. One evening, George came home. “Lucy, I’ve just been made department head, on probation. I’ll work hard to prove myself.” Which he quickly did. George didn’t like Lucy working for her mum. “You’ll never achieve anything if you stay under her thumb,” he told her. “Are you really going to let her control you for life? She’s a tyrant, and you’re too submissive.” Lucy hated hearing this, but knew it was true. Eventually, George stopped criticising her, but grew more distant—a relief, she thought. At least he didn’t nag anymore. The main thing was, they were still together. A year passed, then one day George returned quietly from work and said, “I’ve met someone else and I love her. I’m leaving. She’s real, not like you…” For the first time in her life, Lucy lost it. She shouted, argued, smashed a plate and threw George’s phone against the wall, tore up a shirt or two, then calmed down. Watching, George finally said, “So there’s some fire in you after all. Shame it’s too late,” and left for his new love. “I hate you,” Lucy muttered, packed her bags, found a flat, and left. She said nothing to Margaret; she knew exactly what the response would be. For more than a month Lucy managed to hide her new situation, but her mother sensed something was wrong. “Lucy, what’s going on? You look empty. Is something wrong with you and your husband?” “Why do you think that? I don’t have a problem with my husband—because I don’t have a husband anymore.” “My God, I knew it! He left you, didn’t he? When?” “In April.” “And you said nothing all this time?” Lucy sighed and endured her mother’s tirade. “I warned you, at least you’re not his servant anymore. Thank heavens you don’t have a child together. Now, promise you’ll listen to my advice from now on. Understood?” “Mum, everything happens for the best,” Lucy replied, then added, “And I quit working with you. I’m done,” and left Margaret baffled in her office. Lucy resolved to get far away from her mother, knowing she’d never get a break from the lectures or the control. She wandered, unsure where to go, caught a tram, got off at her stop, and promptly twisted her ankle in a pothole. Groaning from the pain, she sat on the curb. “Just what I needed,” she thought. “Are you alright?” a young man hurried over, having missed the tram. He helped her up—her ankle throbbed. “Does it hurt much?” “Terribly,” she winced. “Here, lean on me—” Before she could argue, he swept her up and carried her to his car. “I’m James,” he introduced himself, “and you?” “Lucy,” she replied. At the hospital they found her ankle was only sprained. After a firm bandage and some instructions, James drove her home. “Give me your number, just in case you need anything,” he offered. Lucy agreed. Next day, James called. “Anything you need from the shop? I suspect your ankle’s still bad.” “Some juice, fruit, maybe bread,” she confessed. Soon after, he appeared with not one but two bulging bags. “Good grief, what’s all this?” “We’re celebrating our meeting, if you don’t mind—and don’t worry, I’ll do all the work. By the way, can we drop the formalities?” Lucy laughed—it was easy and comfortable with James. James did the cooking, reheated a kebab in the microwave, poured juice—no wine, he warned, since he didn’t drink. The evening was a delight. Four months later, Lucy and James wed. A year after that, their daughter Sophie was born. When asked where she found such a wonderful husband, Lucy would laugh, “He found me at the roadside… Don’t believe it? Ask him yourself!” Thank you for reading, subscribing, and all your support. Wishing you happiness in life.