The Wise Wife and Her Foolish Choice
When Blythe first saw him across the bustling dining hall of the Cambridge Institute of Scientific Research, she felt the certainty of destiny. He was tall, impeccably dressed, his eyes unusually warm. He scanned the room from the far end of the canteen where Blythe had spent seven years cataloguing books as the institutes librarian. Her heart whispered that he was the man she had imagined all her life.
What are you staring at? asked Molly, her lunch companion, sliding into the seat opposite. Ah, thats the new physics graduate, just finished his PhD. Hes supposed to be a rising star.
Blythes cheeks flushed. She turned her gaze to the soup in front of her.
I was just looking around, she muttered.
Sure, youre just looking, Molly smirked, eyes twinkling. Your face says otherwise. By the way, hes single. Ive heard.
Hes very young, Blythe replied, flustered.
How old are you? Thirtytwo? Hes about twentyseven, maybe a year younger. Does that matter?
Silence fell. The age gap seemed a canyon, though it was only a few years. Blythe had resigned herself to a solitary life after a disastrous affair at the institute. Books had become her confidants, her refuge. And now, unexpectedly, he appeared.
The next morning James Whitaker entered the library. He asked for a rare monograph on quantum mechanics. Blythe, nervous, trekked to the back shelves. The volume took a while to locate.
Sorry to keep you searching, James said, accepting the thick tome. I could have fetched it myself.
Its my job, Blythe replied, steadying her voice.
I saw you in the canteen yesterday, he continued, surprising her. May I invite you for a coffee after work?
Blythes breath caught. I would love that, she managed.
That coffee sparked the first of many evenings together. James proved not only brilliant but also endlessly engaging. He explained his research in terms even Blythe, far from physics, could follow. She, in turn, shared insights from the books she loved. Their debates stretched for hours, time slipping unnoticed.
Blythe, youre remarkable, James said one twilight as they strolled through the park. Youre wise, you feel things so keenly. Ive never met a woman like you.
Its all the reading, she blushed. I just read a lot.
No, its more than that. You think, you analyse, you see what others miss. In the lab they call me a promising scientist, yet beside you I feel like a schoolboy.
Dont be ridiculous, Blythe waved off. Youre a physicist who understands the universe; I just hand out books.
Dont belittle yourself. You understand human souls, which is far harder than any equation.
Six months after they met, they married. Jamess mother, Margaret Whitaker, a formidable and ambitious woman, declared her sons mistake.
Shes older! No prospects! Just a librarian! What can she give you or your future children? she shouted.
Mother, I love her, James answered firmly. Shes not just a librarian; shes intelligent, cultured. We will have children.
The wedding was modest. The couple lingered over tea with a few friends; Margaret did not attend.
At first they lived in a modest rented flat. Money was tight, but they were happy. Blythe turned the place into a cosy home, and James returned each evening eager to share his day. Their conversations still revolved around books, films, and his experiments.
Then the miracle they had both yearned for happenedBlythe became pregnant. Doctors had once told her she might never have children because of a rare condition.
James, Im pregnant, she whispered one night as he entered.
He froze, then rushed to embrace her, spinning her around. Blythe, my love! This is wonderful! Well have a childour child!
He tended to her throughout the pregnancy, simmering broth for her nausea, hunting for pickles at midnight, reading aloud parenting books, even diving into child psychology to prepare for fatherhood.
When their daughter was born, they named her Hope.
Hope, our little hope and joy, James cooed, cradling the swaddled infant.
Margaret, stunned, arrived at the maternity ward with a massive bouquet of roses and a basket of fruit. Let me see my granddaughter, she demanded, eyes bright.
She examined Hope, delighted. Shes got my chin dimple and your nose, James!
From that moment Margarets visits became frequent. She brought gifts, offered advice on childrearing, and gently critiqued Blythes methods. Blythe tolerated it at firstafter all, it was her motherinlaw. Yet the interference grew increasingly intrusive.
Blythe, why dont you put her on her tummy? All the paediatricians say its best! Margaret urged.
What about more vitamins for Hope? she added.
James stayed silent, often siding with his mother. One evening he suggested, Mother wants us to move in with her. She has a big house, a spare room for us, and a nursery for Hope. It would ease the finances, and youd have help.
What do you think, Blythe? he asked cautiously.
Its not a bad offer financially, but I feel Blythe hesitated. I want to raise my daughter on my own terms.
She agreed, despite an inner voice warning her it might be a mistake. They moved when Hope was six months old. Initially everything seemed fine; Margaret helped, and Blythe returned to work. But tension thickened.
Why let her cry? Pick her up, calm her! Margaret demanded during a tantrum. Children should never be upset!
Crying is normal, Blythe replied. Hope needs to learn to manage emotions.
Exactly! A happy childhood means no tears! Margaret exclaimed.
James increasingly took his mothers side, dismissing Blythes opinions. Arguments erupted over feeding, sleep, play, toys. Blythe felt powerless as Margaret became the de facto authority in Hopes life.
Then the worst fear materialised. Hope fell ill with a high fever and cough. Margaret insisted on folk remedies.
Put mustard packs on her chest, give her raspberry tea, itll cure her! she urged.
No, Blythe said firmly. Im calling the doctor.
Three children raised without doctors, and I never needed one! Margaret protested.
James, please decide! Blythe pleaded.
James stood between the two most important women in his life, paralyzed. Maybe we should try the home remedies first? he suggested weakly.
No! Blythe snapped. Im the mother; I decide whats best for my child.
She called a doctor, who diagnosed early pneumonia. Timely treatment saved Hope.
After that, the household fell apart. Margaret resented Blythe, reminding her constantly that the baby had almost died because shed ignored wise advice.
James spent more time at the lab, avoiding home conflicts. When he did come home, he was irritable and exhausted.
Blythe, can we talk? he asked one night after Hope was asleep and his parents had gone to visit neighbours.
Of course, she replied, sensing the tension.
Theyve offered me a sixmonth fellowship in London at the Royal Society. Its a prestigious chance, once in a lifetime.
Thats wonderful! When do we move? Blythe asked, hopeful.
He averted his gaze. I think Ill go alone.
Alone? What about us, about Hope?
Youll stay here with your parents. Theyll look after you. I can focus entirely on the work.
Blythe could not believe what she heard. You want to abandon us?
Im not abandoning you! Its only six months. Afterwards you can come to me, or Ill return if everything goes well.
James, you dont understand. If you go, your mother will completely take over Hopes upbringing. She already thinks she knows better than me what my child needs.
Youre exaggerating, James snapped. Mother just wants whats best.
For whom? For herself? For Hope? Certainly not for me.
What do you mean?
Look around, James. When was the last time we had a real hearttoheart? When did we discuss books, films? You hide behind work to avoid problems, and now you want to run away completely.
Thats not true! I work hard, I have responsibilities.
You used to work hard and still made time for us. Now you choose the easy way.
Jamess face flushed with anger. Easy? A fellowship at the countrys leading research centre is anything but easy. Do you know how many dream of such an opportunity?
Im not talking about the fellowship, Blythe said, tired. Im talking about you running from our problems instead of solving them.
This isnt running away! Its a step forward in my career!
And what about a step forward for our family? For our marriage? Have you thought about that?
They fought that night, the fiercest argument theyd ever had. By morning James announced his decision: he would go to London alone. If Blythe loved him, she should accept and support him.
Blythe spent days turning the house upside down, thinking of herself, her husband, her daughter, their future. She realised she faced a choice: submit to a life that eroded her identity and marriage, or change everything.
On the day James left, she packed his suitcase, helped Hope into a stroller, and called a taxi.
Where are you going? James asked, surprised.
Were taking you to the station.
Alright, then.
At the train station, minutes from departure, Blythe kissed James and whispered, I love you, James, and I always will. But I cant stay under your parents roof any longer. Hope and I are returning to our old flat.
What? he stammered. Youre moving out? What about my mother?
My parents are wonderful, but I want to raise my daughter myself. If you still love me, support my decision. Go to your fellowship, work, grow. Hope and I will wait for you in our own home.
She turned, hand gripping Hopes tiny fingers, heart thudding like a drum. Maybe this is the dumbest thing Ive ever done, she thought, but perhaps a wise wife would do exactly this.
Daddy, wheres mum? Hope asked in the taxi.
Your dad is off to work, love. Hell be back, Blythe replied.
And where are we going?
Home, sweetheart. Were going home.
The first weeks in the cramped flat were rough. Hope whined for her grandmother, her phone rang nonstop with Margarets demands to have the girl back. Blythe took emergency leave to establish a new routine.
James didnt text for a week. Then a brief message arrived: How are you both?
Fine, adjusting, Blythe replied.
Life slowly settled into a new rhythm. Blythe dived into motherhood: park walks, zoo trips, puppet shows, evening storytimes, drawing, clay modelling. She found Hope calmer and happier than when she lived with her grandparents.
James called sparingly, giving short updates about the fellowship, new colleagues, discoveries. He never asked how they were coping. Blythe sent occasional photos of Hopes milestones, never pushing.
Three months later, after putting Hope to sleep, Blythe was reading when a knock sounded. James stood in the doorway, a bouquet of wildflowersher favouriteclutched in his hands.
May I come in? he asked, hesitant.
She stepped aside, allowing him entry.
Is Hope still asleep? he whispered, slipping off his shoes.
Yes, just now.
How is she?
Good. She misses you.
James sat on the sofa, placing the flowers beside him.
Do you miss me? he asked softly.
Yes, very much, Blythe answered honestly.
I understand now, Blythe, he said suddenly. I was running from problems, making cowardly choices. I took the easy way.
What now? she asked.
Now I want to make the hard but right decision. I want to come back to you. If youll have me.
And the fellowship?
Its over. I finished early, did more than required, and they offered me a permanent post in London with a good salary and prospects.
You turned it down? Blythe guessed.
Yes. Because I realised nothing matters without you, without us. Whether we stay here or move elsewhere, its irrelevant. Being together is what counts.
What about your parents?
I spoke to themseriously, for the first time. I told them well decide our life and Hopes upbringing ourselves. They can help, but not command. Mother was shocked, but I think shell accept it eventually.
Blythe looked into his eyes and saw a resolve she hadnt seen in yearspure, deep love.
Do you know what else I realized? James continued. Youre the wiser one. You saw what I couldnt, you did what I lacked the courage forto pull us out of that endless loop.
Honestly, I wasnt sure I was doing the right thing, Blythe confessed. It was a risk.
That risk wasnt foolish, James replied. It was a wise choice.
He reached out, gently touching her cheek.
Will you forgive me?
Without waiting for words, Blythe stepped forward and kissed him. From the bedroom came a tiny voice, Mum, is Daddy home?
They laughed, rose from their seats, and walked together to the nursery. Blythe understood at last that sometimes the decisions that seem the most foolish at first turn out to be the wisest. And sometimes it takes a bold step to rescue what truly matters.
