John and Mary John had never wanted to leave his village for the city. He loved the open fields, the river, the meadows and woods, and his fellow villagers. He decided to become a farmer, to raise pigs, sell the meat, and if all went well, expand his business. He dreamed of building a big house; he already had a car, though it was old and modest, and he invested his grandmother’s house sale money into his farm. He had one more cherished dream—to marry Mary and make her the mistress of his future big house. They were already courting; Mary knew that John’s business was only just starting, he had no serious money yet, and the house was only half-built. She was a beauty. She had never planned to strive for anything herself. “That’s what my looks are for—let my husband provide for me. I just need to find a man who will take care of everything. My beauty is expensive,” she’d say to her friends. “John’s building a house, and he’s got a car,” replied her friend Lucy, “he just needs time. He can’t turn everything around so quickly.” “But I want it all, right now,” Mary would pout. “Who knows when Johnny will finally get somewhere? He doesn’t have the money.” John loved Mary, although he sensed her feelings weren’t what he’d hoped for. He still wished she would grow to love him. Everything might have gone well, except for the arrival of Tom in their village. Tom showed up with a friend to stay with his gran for the holidays. At first, he looked down on the local girls, bored at the village hall until he spotted the lovely Mary. Mary ignored the newcomer at first, but when she learned he was from a well-off family—his father a prominent city official—she quickly switched her attention to him. Tom was older, shared experienced lines with the ladies, and knew how to woo, often buying Mary bouquets she realized were delivered specially from the city. John saw Mary accepting Tom’s flowers and grew angry. “Don’t take his flowers, why are you trying to upset me?” But she just laughed. “Oh, don’t get so wound up, they’re just flowers, what’s the big deal?” John confronted Tom. “Don’t bring Mary flowers. She’s my girl and I’ve got plans for her.” Tom wouldn’t listen, and a fight broke out—thankfully John’s friends separated them. From then on, things soured between John and Mary; she avoided him, and he grew resentful. Mary knew Tom was only in the village for a month, and would leave soon enough. “I need to do something, hook Tom and get to the city. There’s nothing for me here. And I need to act fast,” she thought. Enticing Tom home wasn’t hard. Her parents went to market in the city, and she calculated the timing so they’d find her and Tom alone together. Her father, hard and stubborn, caught them—just as she planned. Both flustered, they were confronted by her parents. “What’s going on here?” her father snapped. Mary cast her eyes down; Tom shifted nervously. “All right. Tom, you must marry our daughter or I’ll ruin you. Now get in here.” What was said remains unknown, but the next day the young couple filed for marriage, parent in tow, while Mary’s mother prepared them for life in the city. News spread swiftly through the village. John was devastated but tried to hide it. Tom, inwardly, cursed his impulse. “Why did I come here? Why did I fall for a village girl’s trick? She’s not so naïve after all—she trapped me, calculating and sharp.” But Mary just wanted city life and happiness—a beautiful life. “No matter, I’ll love him, have his children, he’ll be glad it happened like this. Only, how will his parents accept me?” she wondered. But, to her surprise, his parents were delighted that Tom brought home a pretty, down-to-earth fiancée. They were tired of the city girls Tom paraded home—who only cared about money. Mary would feed and fuss over him; clearly, she’d be a good wife. “Come in, Mary, don’t be shy—make yourself at home,” his mother Helen said kindly, and his father, Mr. Mitchell, smiled. Mary did her best to be a good wife. The flat was a spacious four-bedroom, and Mary felt comfortable with Tom’s kindly parents. Tom began to appreciate Mary, deciding perhaps she wasn’t the schemer he thought. “Yes, she pulled a fast one with marriage, but she genuinely believes we’ll be happy,” he mused, though he didn’t really believe it himself. “Well, let it be so; she doesn’t ask awkward questions—probably feels guilty herself. She clearly doesn’t want to return to the village.” Tom began daydreaming about his bachelor days after the wedding—after all, he had plenty of mates in the city. But one night, Mary surprised everyone at dinner. “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby…” “Congratulations, Mary! We’ve wanted grandchildren for so long,” Helen beamed, and Tom knew there was no point saying the child couldn’t have come at a worse time. The wedding came soon after, and Tom’s parents gifted the newlyweds a furnished flat. Mary noticed Tom wasn’t thrilled about impending fatherhood. “It’s all right, Tom will change once the baby comes, he’ll see what happiness it is,” Mary hoped, not realizing her husband’s heart was already half elsewhere. After the wedding, Tom threw himself into partying. He told Mary: “My work means constant business trips,” and she believed him, having no idea what work he really did. She never complained to his parents about his long absences, about nights away. She simply waited, cooked lovely meals, cleaned, and missed her old village, her friends, her mum and dad. Now, strangely, she couldn’t stop thinking of John. Now she began to question if she’d made the right choice; when she asked if Tom loved her, he evaded. Helen, his mother, saw Mary was sad, knowing her son was not the best husband. Still, the birth of their son brought happiness, even moving Tom at first. But crying babies, nappies, sleepless nights quickly got on his nerves. Mary, exhausted, couldn’t find time to cook anything special, and Tom longed to bolt anywhere. He soon discovered his many flings deserted him. “Who wants a married man?” He never spoke of his wife—she had no education, a simple village girl. “What would she do when our son gets older? I don’t want her working as a cleaner or at the market. It would ruin my family’s reputation. I’ll have to provide alone. Alimony would probably be cheaper.” Tom kept a steady mistress on the side—Kate, with her own flat, money, and no interest in children. He could unwind at hers. Together, they would party, drink, go for weekends away. “Kate, if only you knew how home chaos gets to me. I don’t love my wife, and even our son irritates me. Mary might be beautiful, but she’s so… rural. I can’t take her out anywhere; she knows nothing but the countryside and cows.” Mary realized her dream life with Tom would never come to pass. She guessed he was seeing someone—he’d come home smelling of unfamiliar perfume, lipstick stains on his shirt, snappish with her, ignoring their son, even violent. They’d hoped for more children back in the village, but she confided in her mother, calling from her mobile, only to hear: “We didn’t force you to marry Tom. You made your choice. We expected you’d marry John. Eat your own porridge, then, and when you’ve had enough, come back home—for good…” Mary felt crushed; she even checked Tom’s phone while he slept and found such explicit messages from Kate, she was speechless… She told her mother-in-law, but was met with: “If you’re thinking of divorce, be warned—we’ll fight for custody of your son. You know my husband’s connections. No matter his faults, Tom’s his real dad, has a good income, their own flat. What can you offer? No education, no job, and no money.” Their baby was poorly, teething and feverish, Tom irritated by the crying. Kate was sending messages, waiting for him. He wrote that he’d come once the baby slept and Mary was in bed. Kate replied, “Give them the sleeping pills I gave you—they’ll both sleep in no time.” Tom went for a shower, leaving his phone out. Mary saw the message and was terrified. “What if he does give us sleeping pills? What if he poisons us…” While Tom was in the bathroom, she called John and told him everything. “I’ll come and get you—bring you home.” “But his parents threaten to take my son.” “Don’t worry, they’re just trying to scare you. Try to calm down—for your son too. Let your husband leave, then call me. I’ll wait nearby in the city.” Mary rocked her son until he finally slept, lay down next to him, pretending to sleep. She heard Tom peek in, then leave. She jumped up, packed a few things, rang John, and he arrived at once. He brought her home to his place. Tom returned late the next day to find wife and child gone. He called his parents. “No, Tom, Mary’s not been here. Did she really run off? I’ll call the police,” Helen fretted. “Mum, don’t. Leave it. I’m glad she’s gone, I’m sick of her—and our son. Let her live as she wants. Please, Mum,” he pleaded until she agreed. Time passed. John and Mary married, after her divorce from Tom. They lived in a big house, soon expecting another child. At last, Mary realized John was her happiness.