**BETTER TO BE A BELOVED WIFE THAN A PERFECT DAUGHTER**
“Lily, choose: either me or your parents!” This time, my husband was firm, unyielding.
“Edmund, you know Id follow you to the ends of the earth. But dont shut out my parents. You said it yourselftheyre old. Have some pity…”
“I want nothing to do with them! If youre such a dutiful daughter, visit them yourself.” Edmund glared at me, his disappointment sharp as glass.
…The first time I married, it was to a man whod served in Afghanistan. Simon seemed fearless, heroicand he was. A decorated major, a hardened soldier.
…Our son, Matthew, was born. My parents adored their son-in-law, their grandson.
“Now, Lily dear, your mother and I can rest easy. Simons a good man. Weve handed you to safe handsdont disappoint us.” My father never missed a chance to remind me how fortunate I was.
…Simon paid our son no mind. Matthew would reach for him, but his father was always busyfishing, meeting old comrades, or simply in no mood.
In time, Matthew stopped reaching altogether.
It got worse. Simon fell into black depressions. Best to stay away when he did. I withdrew. Matthew was five when Simon, drunk as a lord, strapped on his uniform and threatened our boy with his service pistol. That was the end. His mind was brokenthe war had seeped into him like poison. I wouldnt gamble with my sons life, or my own. We divorced quietly.
My parents drenched me in scorn.
“Youre a terrible wife! Where will you find another like him? Youll regret this!”
I never did. Simon became a chapter I closed without looking back. He spent years searching for a wife before marrying a deaf woman.
…The second husband came quickly. My work took me to small towns, drafting contracts. In one, I met a high-ranking officialEdmund Whitmore. Handsome, sharp, with a smile that lit up the room. We clashed at first, which meant more visits to his office. Pleasant chats turned to something warmer.
“Miss Lily, join me for dinner. Ill drive you home myself.” He kissed my hand, gallant as a knight.
I agreed. Matthew was with my parentsI could indulge myself for once.
Then it all spun like a carousel.
Love flared, fierce and hungry. Edmund was six years younger, divorced, with a seven-year-old daughter.
I knew my parents would disapprovetoo young, too brash, “green as spring grass.” But I didnt care. I loved him wildly.
“Mum, Dad, Im getting married. Edmund and I invite you to dinner.” The words sat heavy in my throat.
They gaped.
“Are you mad, Lily? We thought youd reconcile with Simon! You have a child!”
“Forget Simon. He forgot Matthew. End of story. Youll meet Edmund tomorrow. Dont mention my exit wont go well.” I braced for disaster.
Edmund arrived bearing gifts and a proposal.
“After the wedding, wed like us all to live together. Youre not getting younger. Well be thereshopping, doctors, emergencies. What do you think?”
My father scratched his head.
“Well… suppose youre right. But where? Were in a tiny flat. Lilys got her placethanks to Simon.” He shot me a look. “And you, son? Where dyou live?”
“I dream of a three-story house. Ill build it, move us all in.” Edmund smiled, as if stitching us together with his gaze.
…The wedding was a riot of laughter. Edmund whisked me off on a Mediterranean cruise. Wed tour Europe, take Matthew and his daughter, Annabel. His ex-wife happily sent her along.
Edmund treated Matthew as his own. But Annabel? She watched me sidelong, whispering in her fathers ear.
…Three years later, we moved into the new house. Acres of land, orchards, gardenseverything we wanted. Edmund was the perfect son-in-law. The ground floor was fitted for my parentsno stairs to climb. Matthews room was at the top. “Young legs can manage.” Ours was in the middle. A summer kitchen, a triple garageall perfect.
…Later came gifts: a motorbike for Matthews twentieth, a car for my birthday, a spa break for Mum, a fishing boat for Dad.
Yet my family took it all for granted, blind to Edmunds generosity. I heard their snipes, their jabs. He ignored them.
“Lily, I want peace. Let them whisper. My conscience is clear. I provide, I respect them. What more? Ahbut their ideal is Simon. Cant compete with a ghost.”
We grew distant, strangers under one roof. My parents never learned that love isnt a one-way street.
Time ticked on.
Matthew brought home a girl.
“This is Vera. Shes moving in.”
“Who is she? Your fiancée? Wife?” I stiffened.
He dragged her upstairs without a word.
Fine. Hes grown. Let *her* parents fret over her virtue.
But Vera was no shrinking violet.
“Lily, we want the second floor. Were having a baby. Tell the old folk to shift.” She lounged, smoking, sipping *my* coffee.
She called us by our first names. “Titles are outdated. Were all equals.”
“Vera, while Im mistress here, youll show respect. Dont like it? The doors open.”
She screeched for Matthew.
“Did you hear? Lilys throwing me out*pregnant*!”
Matthew shoved mehard. My head struck the table. I woke in hospital, concussion pounding, tears hot and helpless.
My boy. My darling. Raised his hand to me. For *her*.
(No baby, it turned out.)
Edmund, furious, called the police. I liedsaid Id slipped.
The betrayal festered. Hed traded me for that brazen scrap.
I forgave. Families quarrel.
Matthew knelt. “Mum, forgive me. I wasnt myself.”
I kissed his head, wept. Hed seen sense.
Peace at lastor so I thought.
That night, Edmund murmured,
“Did you know Vera crept into our bed while you were gone?”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Woke to her staring at me. Theyd been out. Matthew was dead drunk. I sent her packing.”
He wasnt lying.
What now? Tell Matthewhed deny it. Confront Verashed twist it. I waited.
My parents poisoned me against Edmund.
“Lily, hes a tomcat! Away on business, into some tarts bed. Dump him!”
Repeat a lie enough, it sticks. Life soured. We bickered. Edmund left.
A month passed.
A friend called. “Saw Edmund with a stranger today. You know?”
Fool! Leave a man like that alone, and vultures circle.
I brought him home. The “stranger” was Annabeltwenty-five, career-driven, unwed.
Edmund had decided.
“Choose, Lily: me or your parents. Or well break.”
I pitied Mum and Dadfrail, stumblingyet they revived only to spite Edmund. Their malice never thawed.
We moved. A three-bed fixer-upper, ten acres. No more bending. Better dry bread in joy than honey in strife.
My parents rang, cursing.
“Youre no daughter! Left us to rot! Chased your man like a bitch in heat! Veras shipping us to a home!”
May your husbands legs wither! Ruined our lives!
…Edmund and I live quietly, joyfully. We wed in the village church.
