"Mommy, why are you crying again? Please don't cry. Daddy will wake up soon and he'll be nice," little Lily said, tugging at Jane's robe.
Jane wiped her eyes with her palm, forced a smile for her daughter, and tried to sound as optimistic as possible.
"I'm not crying, sweetie. I just got something in my eye. Go on to bed; your brother is already asleep."
Lily wrapped her arms around her mother's leg. "Just don't cry, okay? I promise I'll be good and won't get into trouble at preschool."
Jane smiled and stroked the little girl's hair. This marriage had brought her nothing but heartache. Nothing, that is, except for her beautiful children—four-year-old Lily and six-year-old Paul. It was almost strange that a father like Mark could have such magnificent children. They were bright, sensitive, and mature beyond their years.
The marriage had started with such promise. Jane met Mark during her senior year of college while she was studying English Literature. Mark was a graduate student in geology. He was so handsome back then, playing his guitar and swearing his undying love for her. Naturally, her heart melted. She fell for him almost instantly, and they had a modest wedding just six months later.
At first, things were fine. Mark made good money working as a field geologist on rotating shifts. It was hard for Jane not to see him for three months at a time, but she accepted it as an investment in their future. Soon, they bought a small apartment. However, the deed was put in Mark's mother's name; he had claimed it would be "simpler" that way. Jane was pregnant with Paul at the time and suffering from severe morning sickness; she didn't have the energy to argue or deal with the paperwork.
Then Lily was born. Two beautiful children, a home of their own—small, but cozy...
It seemed like the long-awaited happiness had finally arrived. But happiness proved elusive.
Instead, disaster struck. Mark started drinking. It began during his long stints away for work. The harsh conditions and the isolation made a bottle of bourbon the only way he knew how to decompress.
Initially, he only drank while out in the field. Then he started drinking at home. First it was just a little, but then came the benders that lasted for weeks.
He refused treatment, insisting he didn't have a problem and could stop whenever he wanted. Before long, Mark was fired from the university where he held a teaching position. Who wants a professor who misses class because he's hungover—or worse, shows up to a morning lecture already drunk?
The field contracts stopped coming, too. Jane worked as a schoolteacher, but her salary was barely enough to make ends meet. Whenever Mark did find odd jobs, he drank away the earnings immediately. Jane's parents had passed away years ago, leaving their house to her brother, who offered no help; he had his own family to worry about. As for Mark's mother, she only gave money directly to her son, claiming Jane didn't deserve any handouts. She even blamed Jane for her "precious boy" turning to the bottle.
Right now, loud snoring echoed from the next room. Jane had finished her shift at school, visited two students for private tutoring, and picked the kids up from daycare. When she got home, she found her husband in the kitchen, drinking with a new "friend" who looked like he'd been living on the streets.
Jane sent the children to their room and, trying to avoid a scene, asked the friend to leave. Mark resisted at first but eventually gave in, muttering to his drinking buddy about his "crazy wife." The friend stumbled out, and Mark crashed onto the bed.
Looking into the fridge, Jane nearly burst into tears. Her husband and his friend had managed to eat everything she had prepped for the next two days: the stew, the mashed potatoes, and the chicken. There was nothing left. Not even milk for the kids' cereal in the morning. She couldn't leave the children alone to go to a 24-hour grocery store in the middle of the night.
Her only choice was to go to Mrs. Higgins again and ask for a few groceries on credit. Jane threw a shawl over her pajamas and slipped quietly into the hallway. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she was horrified. A messy bun, pale skin, dull eyes, and wrinkles... she wasn't even thirty yet. But then again, what did it matter how she looked?
Jane went out to the landing and rang her neighbor's bell. A few moments later, a neat, kind-looking woman in her mid-seventies opened the door.
"Mrs. Higgins," Jane sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry to bother you. But could I possibly borrow a little milk and some cereal? I get paid the day after tomorrow. I'll pay you back and replace everything I took."
"Oh, honey... Him again?" Mrs. Higgins didn't finish the sentence, her weathered hands clenching into fists. "Just kick him out, for heaven's sake! How much more can you take? He's ruining your life and the children's! Or take the kids and leave!"
"Where would I go? I don't have a place of my own, and I can't afford rent. He has nowhere to go either, and he wouldn't leave anyway. Legally, the apartment belongs to his mother."
"I remember how they swindled you, poor girl. Come in, let's see what I can find for you."
Jane stepped into the small, spotless kitchen. Mrs. Higgins began rummaging through her pantry. Suddenly, she froze and turned around, looking intently at Jane.
"You know, there might be a solution to your problem, dear."
"What solution?" Jane asked gloomily. "Selling a kidney? Becoming a surrogate?"
"Now, don't be like that. My sister lives out in the country—I think I've mentioned her. There's a little cottage for sale near her. It's small, but it would be enough for you and the kids. There's land, and you could find work. There's a school and a preschool nearby. They're in the next town over, but the local councilman organized a bus for the kids. He's a good man."
"With what money? I don't have a cent saved."
"Let me find out exactly what they're asking for it first, then you can decide. Deal?"
Jane nodded. For a moment, she imagined herself cooking in a cozy country kitchen, using vegetables she'd grown herself. She saw herself walking through the woods with Lily and Paul, the kids carrying baskets of berries while sunlight filtered through the trees and the air smelled of pine.
Jane shook the thoughts away. She was dreaming. A cottage? Nature walks? Back home was a drunk husband, and she didn't even have enough money for new boots.
She took the groceries from Mrs. Higgins and went back home.
***
A few days later, her neighbor came over.
"I looked into it. The price is actually quite reasonable," Mrs. Higgins said, naming a figure. Jane's eyebrows shot up. It was incredibly low. She could potentially take out a small loan, and with her savings bonds and government child credits, it might just be possible.
"I'm actually going to visit my sister next week. Why don't you come with me? You can look at the place and decide. Bring the kids, too. My sister, Sarah, loves children and rarely gets to see her own grandkids."
The following Saturday, Jane, Mrs. Higgins, Lily, and Paul arrived at Sarah's farm. The children were delighted by the chickens, ducks, and the cow in the barn. They begged their mother to let them stay with Sarah—who looked exactly like her sister—while Jane went to inspect her potential new home.
Jane fell in love with the cottage instantly. The moment she saw it, she felt a sharp realization: This is my home. I want to stay here and raise my children. The house sat on the edge of the property, right by the treeline. It was overgrown and neglected, of course, but nothing that a little hard work couldn't fix.
Two months later, after finalizing the purchase and the paperwork, Jane moved into her new home with the children. First, she hired some locals to fix the wiring, the plumbing, and the well. The rest was just cosmetic work that she planned to do bit by bit.
The children were thrilled with the move. Jane hadn't quite found the courage to tell them she was planning a divorce; she simply told Lily and Paul that they would be living apart from their father for a while. The children accepted this without many questions.
Jane settled into her new life and began meeting the neighbors. She worked as an online tutor and found she had no shortage of students. Everything was coming together perfectly—even better than she had expected.
A week after the move, there was a knock at the door. A young man in his mid-thirties, dressed in a sharp business suit, stood on the porch. The suit surprised Jane; almost no one in the village dressed like that.
"I'm the local councilman, Mark's... I mean, I'm Peter."
"Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Jane. Come in, I'll make some coffee." Jane gestured toward her kitchen.
As she brewed the coffee, Peter explained that he'd heard about her background. He told her there was a small school in the village, but they only had one teacher—an elderly woman who had been desperate to retire for years. Consequently, they only held classes for the younger children. Anyone past the fifth grade had to commute to a larger town.
"Would you consider working there? We can't pay a fortune, and the building has seen better days... but it would save the kids a fifty-mile round trip every day."
Jane smiled. "I'd love to. It might be a challenge to organize lessons for different age groups, but I'm interested."
"We'll figure it out! Just say yes," Peter said, shaking her hand. "Let's meet in a few days to discuss the details. You've really fixed this place up nicely." Suddenly, he blushed, which didn't escape Jane's notice. "And if you ever need a hand... you know, with heavy lifting or repairs... please, feel free to ask me directly. I'm happy to help."
A few days later, Jane inspected the school building. It certainly needed work, but the essentials were there—the structure and the teaching materials. She could start with classes a few times a week or offer prep courses for the kids planning to go to college.
Jane began her new job. she loved the students; they were inquisitive and bright, not as entitled as the city kids she was used to. They were hungry for knowledge and asked fascinating questions that she enjoyed researching. Jane felt respected here. In the city, parents often treated teachers like service staff. Here, they looked at her as the person who could give their children a ticket to a better future.
While Jane worked, Sarah watched Lily and Paul. Mark called a few times to check in. When she told him she intended to file for divorce, he simply hung up. Soon after, her mother-in-law called, screaming about "other men" Jane was supposedly seeing and accusing her of using Mark and abandoning him. Jane simply hung up and blocked the number.
One evening, Jane was sitting on the porch, drinking tea and reading. The children were playing in the basement, where Peter had installed proper lighting. Suddenly, Paul ran out onto the porch, looking excited. He was holding a small box.
"Mom, look! What's this?"
"Let me see, honey," Jane said.
Paul placed a wooden chest decorated with intricate carvings on his mother's lap. Lily followed him out, adding, "We tried and tried, but it won't open. Open it, Mom!"
Jane turned the box over in her hands. It was locked with a clever, old-fashioned mechanism. She couldn't get it open on her own.
"I don't know, kids. Maybe we can try tomorrow?"
Paul pouted. "Mom, you always say 'tomorrow.' What if there's treasure inside? Or a map?"
"You have quite the imagination," Jane laughed. "Alright. Let's go see Peter; I'm sure he has the right tools."
Jane stood up, took the children's hands, and walked over to Peter's house. Paul carried the box proudly in front of him.
Peter managed to open the chest. He brought out some specialty tools, and within three minutes, the mechanism clicked. When the lid swung open, everyone—except Lily—was speechless. The chest was filled with gold coins.
"Wow, play money! But it's not the right color," the little girl said, disappointed. "Real money doesn't look like that. Mom, can I play with them?"
"Honey, these aren't for playing with. They're very valuable," Jane whispered, her heart racing. "Peter, what do we do? Do I have to turn this in? Is it 'treasure trove'?"
"You don't owe anyone anything," Peter said firmly, closing the lid and handing it back to Jane. "They're yours. They were in your house. Under the law here, you're entitled to keep what you find on your own property."
Jane later learned that her house had once belonged to a wealthy family who had lost their fortune in a bank collapse decades ago. They had moved to the outskirts and lived out their days in that cottage. They must have hidden away what little wealth they had left.
The gold turned out to be worth a small fortune. Jane had never seen that kind of money. She fully renovated her house, bought a reliable car, and set up trust funds for Lily and Paul so they would be taken care of in the future. Even then, she had plenty left over. She suggested to Peter that she use the remaining money to renovate the school. He initially refused, saying the money belonged to her and her children, but she persisted.
"Think about it, Peter. This gold sat in this village for years just so it could eventually help the people here," she argued. Finally, he agreed.
The school was completely transformed. Jane added a gym and a new playground with a basketball court and a soccer field. With the remaining funds, she opened a small general store. The village had a tiny shop that only sold the bare essentials, and people had to drive to the next town for everything else. Thanks to Jane, that problem was solved.
Over the next few months, Jane spent a lot of time with Peter, working on various community projects. During that time, she realized she was developing feelings for him. It scared her a little, as she was still technically married, but she finally moved forward with the divorce. She filed the paperwork, and it was granted by the court. Mark didn't even show up for the hearing.
Soon after, it became clear that Peter's feelings for the young teacher were mutual. One morning, he showed up at her door with a bouquet of wildflowers and asked if she would be his wife.
"Well, of course, now that I'm a wealthy woman, you've decided to propose," Jane joked.
Peter's face fell. "You don't understand. I liked you from the moment you arrived. I even wore that ridiculous suit just to meet you, thinking I'd make a good impression."
"You did," Jane laughed, reaching out to him. "You made quite an impression."
She hugged him tightly and whispered, "Finally! I thought you were never going to ask. Yes, Peter. I'll marry you."
Not long ago, Jane couldn't have imagined her life changing so drastically. She had completely rewritten her fate. Finally, she was the happiest woman in the world.
She felt a deep wave of gratitude for her old neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, who had shaken her awake, returned her to life, and pointed her toward the path to happiness.
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