She is crying. She cried yesterday, and she's crying today. She doesn't leave the house, pacing as she searches for an answer to the same haunting question: why did this happen? What did she say or do wrong? All she did was love him. And yet, her husband filed for divorce. How could she tell her parents? How could she tell her little girl? She had survived on the hope that everything would eventually work out.
She had forgiven him; she had turned a blind eye. Now she lay there, curled into a ball, looking so small, vulnerable, and utterly abandoned. Tears trembled on her lashes—bitter and salty, just like her unhappy life. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and she drifted off to sleep.
***
It had all started with such sunshine and beauty. She grew up as a cherished child. Even the summer sun didn't seem to give off as much warmth as her family did. They called her Mary. She did well in school, she was full of life, and she was beautiful. She dreamed of becoming a teacher, and that dream came true. She had only one fear: that her parents would find out about her boyfriend.
She kept him a secret from everyone. She knew they wouldn't approve of her choice—that they wouldn't want to give their beloved daughter away to the man her heart had chosen. But her heart hadn't exactly asked for permission.
During her senior year of college, she finally whispered to her mother, "Mom, I think I'm going to get married soon."
But when Alex stepped over the threshold of her parents' home, her mother turned pale. Mary saw her mom struggling with every ounce of her being to maintain her composure. Afterward, there were tears and arguments. But Mary stood her ground. Love filled every cell of her body, every thought. She lived for Alex; she breathed for him. It was an ethereal, all-consuming kind of love. She was blind and deaf to everything her mother and father saw in him—the questionable behavior, the crude jokes. She felt like the luckiest bride in the world, glowing with that unmistakable radiance reserved for those deeply in love.
The wedding came and went. Mary traveled back and forth to finish her degree, coming home on weekends. By the time she graduated, they already had a baby girl, Sophie. Mary was so preoccupied with being a new mother that she didn't even notice how much Alex was changing.
***
There was no work to be found. As Sophie grew older and could be left with her grandmother, Mary made a suggestion to her husband. "Maybe we should go away for a while to find work? We could save up and buy our own house," she said. But Alex wouldn't hear of it. So, Mary made the difficult choice to go alone. She cried in that far-off city, aching for her daughter and working like a slave, while back home, Alex lived a life of total freedom.
She returned three years later, unable to bear the separation from her family any longer. Besides, her mother was constantly calling her, begging her to come home.
With the money she'd saved and some help from her parents, they bought a condo in the city and had a housewarming party. Sophie started school. But Mary hardly recognized Alex anymore. Still, she continued to ignore the late nights, the drinking, and the "friends" he hung out with. Maybe he was always like this? Maybe I was just so blinded by love that I didn't see it, she would sometimes catch herself thinking. But she continued to endure it all in silence. Alex called her names, grew jealous, and accused her of being unfaithful.
Mary would cry and defend herself, swearing that she had never been with anyone else. It was useless. He started staying out all night more and more often. Mary refused to believe the rumors until the day she accidentally saw her husband in the arms of some blonde woman. She had trusted him so much; she had endured everything and forgiven everything because she was terrified of losing him. She couldn't imagine life without him. He was her daughter's father, and the girl loved him so much. It seemed Sophie had inherited that same deep, blind devotion from her mother.
"Mommy, if Daddy comes home late and he's been drinking, let's just sit quietly and not say anything, okay? Just so he doesn't leave us," Sophie had begged more than once. And so, Mary endured. She stayed silent. She even smiled at him. And he took advantage of her patience, trampling all over her obsessive love.
***
Mary dreamed of her mother, of the creek and the meadows back home, and of her daughter wrapping tiny arms around her neck. The ringing of the phone broke the dream. She didn't answer. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She glanced at the clock; she still had time to catch the bus to her parents' house.
"God, the world is so beautiful," she thought, looking out the window at the street. "I can see, I can hear, I can walk. My daughter needs me, and my parents need me. He doesn't need me, but I need him. And I will live with that. I will love only him. He is a part of my daughter, and for her, I am grateful to God and to him. I have to keep going. God will give me strength."
The woman took a deep breath, smiled, and began to pack for the trip. She was going to the people who mattered most, the ones who were always waiting for her. And in her heart, a tiny spark of hope remained—that her great, powerful love would somehow win in the end.
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