Life isnt a stroll through a meadow.
The village buzzed with gossip about how Irene had stolen her sisters husband. Only the deaf hadnt heard the news, and the mute couldnt repeat it! Such scandal was pure entertainment for the villagers, spicing up their dull routines. For some, it was just fodder for idle chatter, but for others, it marked a cruel twist of fate.
Nicholas had married Emily far too youngor rather, hed been ready to settle down, while she was still playing with dolls. Emilys parents drank, neglecting their four children. As the eldest, she shouldered everything. Thanks to her, the younger ones were fed, clothed, and cared for, though the family had no proper home. Emily cooked, washed, walked her siblings to school, helped with homeworkall while excelling in her own studies.
One day, returning from school, Emily found their cottage in ashes. Neighbors stood in clusters, whispering that by the time the fire brigade arrived, the house was already engulfed. Her parents, drunk and oblivious, hadnt escaped. Emily collapsed into the sooty wreckage, clawing at the embers, but nothing could be done.
Her siblings were taken to an orphanage, while Emily went to live with Aunt Anne, her fathers half-sister.
Life with Anne was peaceful, though the woman worked herself ragged. Her husband, William, was quiet and hardworking, towering in height yet bending under Annes sharp gaze. The house was calmno shouting, no drunken brawlsso unlike Emilys childhood. She wasnt afraid of work, and though Aunt Anne pitied her, Emily took on chores willingly.
Then Nicholas, Annes eldest son, returned from the army, and Emilys life changed. Tall, dark-haired, and effortlessly charming, he had every village girl swooning. Like his mother, he was diligent, skilled with his hands, and though not Williams biological son, hed inherited his stepfathers quiet strength.
Anne had conceived Nicholas out of wedlock, and when William proposed, she acceptednot out of love, but necessity. Still, affection grew between them, and three more children followed. The middle child, Max, died before turning three, but the girls, Mary and Rachel, brought joy. So when Emily arrived, they doted on her.
Anne noticed something was off when Emily grew pale, nauseous, and tearful. Shed seen the way Nicholas looked at her.
“Out with itwhats happened between you two?” Anne demanded one evening.
“With *who*?” Nicholas teased.
“Dont play the fool! Emilywhat have you done?”
“I love her,” he said firmly. “And she loves me.”
“Oh, I can see thatand Ill bet shes carrying your child! Call her here.”
Nicholas brought Emily, who trembled under Annes glare.
“So, youve fallen for each other? How long have you been sick, girl?”
“Two months,” Emily whispered.
“Mother, its my child. Ill take responsibility.”
“Of course you will. Youll marry herwhat else? I wont have an orphan girl wronged!” Anne turned to Emily. “Dry your tears. Youll be eighteen next weekthen well have the wedding.”
The wedding was grand, the whole village feasting for days. There was dancing, smashed plates, and plenty of ale. Gifts piled upfine china, quilts, even a goat and two geese. Emily, radiant in white, blushed as Nicholas whispered in her ear.
They settled in an old but sturdy cottage, once belonging to Williams mother. Nicholas fixed the roof, Emily whitewashed the walls, and they built a life together, swearing vows of love through hardship and joy.
Life flowed like a river, sometimes rocky, but they navigated it well. Within a year, Emily gave birth to a daughter, then a son. Happiness bloomed.
Then they took in Emilys youngest sister, Irene, from the orphanage.
Irene was seventeen.
Anne had begged them not to. “Mark my words, this wont end well.”
Irene was everything Emily wasntlazy, vain, leaving her room a mess while preening before the mirror. She flaunted herself, catching Nicholass eye just to spite her sister.
“Where did she get such airs?” the neighbors muttered.
Then Anne and William left to tend to a sick relative.
That morning, Emily went to milk the cow while Nicholas fed the pigs. Their son, Danny, fell illburning with fever. They rushed him to hospital, leaving Irene alone.
That evening, Irene cooked dinneruncharacteristically domestic. Nicholas, exhausted, drank tea and collapsed into sleep.
Irene, smirking, slipped into bed beside him.
Annes heart had ached all night. She returned at dawn to find Nicholas asleepwith Irene naked beside him.
“You shameless wretch!” Anne yanked the sheets away.
Irene stretched lazily. “Ask your son what happened. He dragged me here.”
“You fought so hard your dress fell off?” Anne snarled.
Nicholas, groggy, remembered nothing.
Irene smirked. “Im underage. Shall I report him?”
Anne paled.
When Emily returned, the gossipy neighbors fell silent. The truth hit her like a blow.
Seven years passed in a flash.
Emily moved to the city, refusing to stay. Nicholas begged, swearing nothing happened, but her heart turned to stone.
Irene vanished, resurfacing later as a foul-mouthed market vendor, abandoning her own child. Shed drugged Nicholas that nightnothing had happened. Years later, she stabbed a lover and landed in prison.
Nicholas never remarried, living a quiet, lonely life. Emily, though heartbroken, rebuilt hers. She met Stephen, a kind man who loved her children as his own. They had a daughter, and life was sweetuntil the day Stephen died in a car crash.
Grief swallowed Emily whole.
Nicholas came when his daughter called. “Dad, Mums not well. Please come.”
Time healssomewhat. Slowly, Emily returned to reality. Nicholas stood by her, a steady presence. Maybe, in time, theyd find their way back.
Life isnt a stroll through a meadow. Its a winding path, full of stones and storms. But with patience, faith, and time, even the deepest wounds may scar over.
As the saying goes: *Life isnt a walk in the park.*
