A Love That Lasted a Lifetime
At fourteen, young Elsie found herself burdened with household chores, caring for her ailing mother, and keeping up with her schoolwork. She dreamed of becoming a doctor.
“Mum, once I finish university, I’ll make you better. You’ll get back on your feet—you’re still young,” she’d say, though in secret, she wept in her small bedroom, overwhelmed by frustration and helplessness. They lived in a modest house on the outskirts of town, close enough that neighbours knew everyone’s business. Her father had never been kind—not to her mother, nor to her. He was gruff, never offering a word of warmth. And when Vera fell ill, he packed his things and left without a second thought.
At first, Elsie didn’t realise what was happening. She thought he might be going away for work. But then he paused in the doorway and said, “I’m leaving for good. This life isn’t for me—not with a sick wife. I need a healthy woman, not an invalid. You’re grown enough; you’ll manage. I’ll send money by post.”
Elsie waited for him to laugh, to say it was a joke. But the door slammed shut, and he was gone. Vera lay in bed, smiling faintly, while Elsie stood frozen.
“Mum, how can you smile? How will we manage?”
“We’ll manage, love. What did we ever get from him but anger and harsh words? Go fetch Victor from next door—tell him I asked for him.”
Elsie nodded and hurried to their neighbour’s. She had noticed long ago how Victor looked at her mother—softly, with warmth. Her father had never looked at Vera that way. Victor always greeted them with a smile, complimented her mother, brought flowers and chocolates on birthdays—always when her father wasn’t around. Elsie noticed, but she never asked.
Once, when she was thirteen, she overheard Victor confess his love.
“Vera, I’ll always be here for you. No matter what happens, know that I love you.”
Vera had laughed gently. “I’m bound to another,” she replied. “No need for such words, Victor.”
By fourteen, Elsie understood love—the way boys glanced at her, the way Victor’s eyes lingered on her mother. He never overstepped, never embarrassed Vera in front of the neighbours. But he was always there. And without meaning to, Elsie compared him to her father—and Victor won every time.
When she was older, she finally asked, “Mum, why did you marry Father and not Victor?” Vera scolded her and never answered.
Then disaster struck. Vera fell and broke her leg in two places. She seemed to recover, but then grew worse—a growth had formed on the bone. She couldn’t walk, couldn’t even rise from bed. And that was when her father left for good. Elsie never heard from him again—nor did she care to.
Victor stepped in without hesitation. He fetched medicines, brought doctors, even carried Vera to hospital visits himself. Slowly, she improved. With Victor’s care, she began to walk again, first with a cane, then unaided. The neighbours whispered, of course.
“Who ever heard of a neighbour caring for a sick woman? No wonder her husband left. She’s dragged another man into her home.”
Victor ignored them, though it pained him. Vera, once downtrodden, now walked with her head high, Victor by her side.
Their neighbour, Margaret, remarked, “Vera, I barely recognise you. You’ve blossomed! And Victor can’t take his eyes off you. Pay no mind to the gossips.”
“I don’t,” Vera replied, smiling. “Happiness can’t be hidden.”
Then came more whispers when Vera fell pregnant.
“An old woman having a child—shameless.”
But Victor and Vera married, glowing with joy. Elsie, too, was thrilled—her mother was well, happy, and soon she’d have a sister. Little Sophie arrived, and their home brimmed with love.
Elsie finished school, then medical school—her dream fulfilled. Victor and Vera thrived, Sophie grew.
Then Victor died suddenly. The night before, he had embraced Elsie and Sophie tightly. “My girls,” he murmured. “If only you knew how much I love you. And your mother, of course.”
It was the last time. His heart stopped in the night. Vera was shattered.
“Mum, you’re not alone. Sophie and I are here,” Elsie whispered, terrified her mother’s illness would return.
A month later, Vera smiled again. But three months after Victor’s death, she too was gone—unable to live without him.
Elsie and Sophie were alone. Elsie moved back home, caring for her sister, attending parent-teacher meetings, proud when Sophie excelled. On hard days, she looked to the sky.
“Mum, you and Victor would be so proud. Sophie’s brilliant.”
Years passed. They visited the grave often, saving for a proper headstone. When Sophie neared graduation, Elsie finally ordered it—a beautiful monument, Vera and Victor side by side, smiling, forever young.
One day, as they stood before it, a woman approached, admiring the stone.
“Did you know them?” Elsie asked.
“No,” the woman said. “My mother’s buried nearby. I just thought the monument lovely—I saw the cross here last time.”
Elsie nodded. “We saved for years. They had a great love—one that deserved to be remembered.”
At last, she felt at peace. Sophie would soon go to university, and Elsie, too, could think of her own life. For a year now, a cardiologist named Arthur had courted her, even proposed. She had promised—but only once her parents’ memorial was complete.
Now, Vera and Victor’s love was eternal. And Elsie could begin her own story.
