**The Fickle Heart**
Ive never thought myself a beauty, nor even pretty. Not everyones meant to walk the runway, after all. Yet in school, my closest friends were always the loveliest girls. At first, I marvelled at it, until my dear grandmother set me straight:
“Oh, my dear! Its no wonder those pretty friends keep you around, their plain little shadow. You wont steal their beaus. Whod look twice at you?”
Her words stung to tears. But then, softening, she comforted me:
“Dont fret, love. Beauty fades like cheap dye. Remember thisflashy colours run fastest. Your time will come, my sweet. Theres a lid for every pot.”
That lid took its time. Not a single suitor until I turned twenty-seven. So I threw myself into studies and work, knowing Id have to rely on myself.
Then I met Arthur through my friend Natalie. Shed grown sick of his constant attention”like a bad penny,” she said.
“Take him off my hands, Irene. Maybe youll have better luck. Im getting married anyway,” she told me bluntly.
I took to Arthur at once. He was charming, and I was tired of waiting. Why play hard to get? I poured all my love into him, and he seemed relieved to settle into my arms. We married quickly.
Grandma warned me:
“Mark my words, Ireneyoull have your work cut out with him. That Arthurs not done sowing his wild oats. A man ought to get that out of his system before settling down. Dont boast of marriage after three daysboast after three years.”
But I was blind to caution. We were like lovesick calves, inseparable and foolish. Marriage gave me wings!
Then our son, William, was born. Arthur adored himreading bedtime stories, singing lullabies, spoiling him rotten. As William grew, he clung more to his father than to me, his own mother. I didnt mind. Peace at home was all I wanted.
Five blissful years passed before the storm broke.
Maybe Natalie envied me, maybe shed never truly let Arthur goeither way, she lured him back into her clutches. I heard shed divorced, no children of her own.
I felt colourless, my wings broken. My happiness had been built on sand. The tears felt endless. Explaining it to William tore me apart. Now I was the one telling him stories about his father. But tears dry. Life went on. I raised my boy, praying Arthur would come to his sensesif not for me, for Williams sake.
Arthur returned for his passport. Mumbling something about Natalie wanting a proper marriage. I refused. He shrugged and left. Soon after, he got a replacement.
Ill never know what spell Natalie cast, but Arthur forgot us completely. ThoughIll admitshed been the beauty of our school. Radiant, carefree, with a silver tongue. But shed always been one to say one thing and mean another. That never bothered me before. A fatal oversight. Honeyed words, but venom beneath.
Too late, I realised Natalie had only lent Arthur to metemporarily. Her marriage ended, so she took back what shed loaned.
Twice, court summons came for divorce. I ignored them, clinging to hope, tormenting my own heart.
Time passed. Arthur began to miss William. He asked to see him. I agreed. By then, Id stopped aching for him. William and I had found our rhythm. He was twelve when Natalie darkened my door again.
“Hows life, Irene? Still single?” she smirked.
“What do you want?” I iced over.
“Arthur asked me to fetch William. To say goodbye at the hospital,” she said.
My legs buckled. The room spun.
“Whats wrong with Arthur?” I whispered.
“Major surgery tomorrow. He thinks hell die,” she said, already turning to leave.
“He wont! Hell live!” I screamed after her.
The operation succeeded, but Arthur was left disabled at forty. He could barely walk without a cane. The question waswhod care for him? Natalie took him from the hospital, but I knew it wouldnt last. Her heart was as dark as a well.
I waited. Let the storm pass. Maybe clarity would come.
Three months later, Natalie called.
“Irene, Arthurs miserable without William.”
“Or are you miserable with him?” I shot back.
In the end, Arthur came home. Natalie had made his life unbearable. Living with an invalid was no picnic.
He was bitter, silent, angry. But love endures. William and I tended to him tirelessly. Slowly, Arthur softened. He even set aside his cane. Still limping, but standing on his own.
Six months passed. Then Natalie returnedwith a baby.
“How shall we share Arthur? This is his daughter,” she announced.
“Natalie, youre like a weedwrapping around his legs, poisoning his heart. When will you leave us in peace?” I begged.
“Arthurs mine!” she shrieked.
And she was right. I dont blame Arthur. He went back to her. Old flames die hard.
Grandma had the last word:
“That mans not a husband, Irenehes a fickle heart!”
William and I were alone again. My son, grown now, comforted me. “Well manage, Mum,” hed say.
Oh, Arthur, youre the thorn in my side.
The oceans deep, but the human hearts deeper. Who knows what lies beneath?
After Arthur, my soul withered. Ashes where love had been. No one else crossed my pathno warmth, no light, no hope shared.
Time raced on. William married, left home. Then, by chance, I saw Arthur again. He looked wretched, eyes full of sorrow. As Grandma would say, “He danced too long and fell on his own sword.”
“Where are you now? What are you doing?” I asked gently.
“Nowhere. Just walking,” he said oddly. He seemed lost.
So now weve been together seven years. Even autumn has its golden days. Were raising our grandson. Happy? Yes. Perhaps this is lovetested and true.
P.S. Natalie married a Frenchman and left with their daughter. Her parting shot to Arthur?
“I leave you in the hands of your guardian angelIrene.”
