A clever wife and her notsoclever choice
When Eliza first laid eyes on him, she thought it was destiny. Tall, handsome, with startlingly gentle eyes, he stared across the dining hall of the Cambridge Institute of Scientific Research, where shed been a librarian for seven years. Her heart whispered that he was the very man shed been dreaming about all her life.
Who are you staring at? asked Lucy, her workmate, as they ate together. Ah, thats the new lad from the physics lab! He just finished his doctorate bright prospect.
Eliza flushed, looked away and buried her face in a bowl of vegetable soup.
Im just looking around, she muttered.
Sure thing, Lucy smirked. Your face says otherwise. By the way, I think hes single. Ive done a bit of reconnaissance.
Hes really young, Eliza mumbled, a little flustered.
How old are you? Thirtytwo? Hes about twentyseven, give or take. Does it matter?
Eliza stayed quiet. The age gap was tiny, yet it felt like a canyon. Shed long accepted that shed probably remain single. After a disastrous romance at the institute, she dove headfirst into work. Books became her confidants. And then him.
The next morning the young scientist, Peter Davies, wandered into the library asking for a rare monograph on quantum physics. Eliza, nervous, trekked to the back shelves. The volume didnt turn up right away.
Sorry for keeping you searching, Peter said when she returned with the hefty tome. I could have fetched it myself.
Dont worry, thats my job, Eliza replied, keeping her tone calm and professional.
I saw you in the canteen yesterday, he added suddenly. May I treat you to a coffee after work?
Elizas jaw dropped. She hadnt seen that coming.
I gladly, she managed.
That coffee was the first of many evenings they spent together. Peter turned out not only to be brilliant but also a delightfully witty conversationalist. He explained his research in a way that even a librarian could follow, and Eliza shared the latest book shed devoured. He listened, questioned, debated, and their arguments stretched for hours, unnoticed by the ticking clock.
One day, youre a walking encyclopedia, Peter said one night as they strolled through a park. Youre wise, you feel things deeply. Ive never met a woman like you.
Its all the books, Eliza blushed. I just read a lot.
No, its more than that, Peter replied. You think, analyse, you see what others miss. In the lab they call me a promising researcher, but beside you I feel like a schoolboy.
Dont be silly, Eliza waved him off. Youre a physicist who understands how the universe works, and I just hand out books.
Dont sell yourself short. You understand human souls, which is far trickier than any equation.
Six months after they met, they were married. Peters mother, Agnes, a forceful, ambitious woman, declared outright that he was making a mistake.
Shes older than you! No prospects! Just a librarian! What could she possibly give you or any future children?
Mom, I love her, Peter answered firmly. Shes not just any librarian; shes bright, educated. Well have kids, I promise.
The wedding was modest. A tiny café hosted the reception; Peters parents didnt even turn up.
The newlyweds cramped into a rented flat. Money was tight, but happiness was abundant. Eliza turned the place into a cosy home, and Peter loved returning there after a day of experiments. They still talked about books, films, his research everything.
Then, the miracle theyd both longed for happened: Eliza became pregnant. Doctors had once warned her that, due to a quirk in her biology, she might never have children.
Peter, Im expecting, she announced one evening as he walked in.
He froze at the door, then swooped her into his arms, spinning her round.
Ellie, darling! Thats brilliant! Were going to have a baby!
He doted on her throughout the pregnancy simmering broth when nausea hit, sprinting for salty crisps at night, reading aloud parenting manuals, even diving into child psychology to be a proper dad.
When their daughter arrived, Peter wept with joy. They named her Hope.
Hope, little hope and joy, he whispered, cradling the tiny bundle in its white swaddle.
Agnes, surprisingly softened, appeared at the maternity ward with a massive bouquet of roses and a basket of fruit.
Let me see my granddaughter, she demanded, eyes sparkling.
She examined the baby, hands fluttering: Just like you, Peter the same dimple and nose!
From then on, Agnes became a frequent visitor, showering gifts, offering unsolicited advice, and gently critiquing Elizas parenting style. At first Eliza tolerated it after all, she was the childs grandmother. But the meddling grew increasingly overbearing.
Ellie, youre doing it all wrong! Let me show you, shed say.
Why arent you putting her on her tummy? Paediatricians recommend it! shed insist.
Your little Hope needs more vitamins! shed clamour.
Peter usually kept quiet, but one day he spoke up: You know, Mum, shes suggested we move in with her. She has a big house, a spare room for us, a nursery for Hope. It would ease things financially, and you could help with the baby while I focus on work.
What do you think? Eliza asked cautiously.
Its a decent offer. Wed have less financial strain, and Mom and Dad would enjoy having a grandchild nearby.
Eliza agreed, though a small voice warned her it might be a mistake. Still, she trusted Peter.
The move happened when Hope was six months old. At first, everything seemed fine. Agnes helped with the baby, and Eliza returned to work. But the atmosphere grew tense.
Why do you let her cry? the motherinlaw would ask when Hope was fussy. Pick her up, soothe her!
Crying is normal, Eliza replied. Hope needs to learn to handle her emotions.
Exactly! A childs childhood should be happy, no tears!
Peter increasingly sided with his mum, leaving Eliza feeling sidelined. Agnes slowly became the dominant figure in Hopes life.
Then the worst fear materialised: Hope fell ill with a high fever and cough. Agnes advocated oldfashioned remedies.
Lets try mustard plasters, a raspberry decoction, and shell be fine!
No, Eliza said firmly. Im calling a doctor.
Three children raised without doctors, and I never needed one! Agnes protested.
Peter, do something! Eliza pleaded.
Peter stood between the two most important women in his life, clueless.
Maybe we should try the home remedies first? he suggested tentatively.
No! Eliza snapped. Im the mother, and I decide whats best for my child.
She called a doctor, who diagnosed early pneumonia. Prompt treatment saved Hope.
After that, relations soured completely. Agnes resented Eliza, reminding her constantly that her granddaughter had almost been ruined by ignoring her wise counsel.
Peter spent more time at work, avoiding home conflicts, and returned home irritable and exhausted.
Eliza, can we talk? he said one night after Hope was asleep and the grandparents had gone to a neighbours.
Sure, she replied, sensing something was off.
Theyve offered me a sixmonth fellowship in London, at a top research centre. Its a onceinalifetime chance.
Thats wonderful! When do we move?
Peter averted his gaze. Actually I think Ill go alone.
Alone? What about us and Hope?
Youll stay here with the parents. Itll be easier for everyone. Theyll look after the baby, and I can focus entirely on the work.
Eliza could hardly believe her ears. You want to abandon us?
Im not abandoning you! Its only six months. Then Ill be back, or you can visit me if things go well.
Peter, you dont get it. If you leave, your mother will completely take over Hopes upbringing. She already thinks she knows better than me what my child needs.
Youre exaggerating, Peter retorted. Mum just wants whats best.
For whom? For herself? For Hope? Definitely not for me.
What do you mean?
Peter, look around. When was the last time we had a proper hearttoheart? When did we discuss books, films? Youre almost never here; you hide behind work to dodge arguments. And now you want to run away completely.
Thats not true! he protested. I just work hard; I have a responsible position.
You used to work hard and still found time for us. Now youre choosing the easy way out.
Peters face flushed. Easy way? A fellowship at the premier scientific centre is anything but easy. Do you know how many people dream of this?
Im not talking about the fellowship, Eliza sighed. Im talking about you fleeing problems instead of solving them.
Its not fleeing! Its a step forward in my career.
And what about a step forward for our family? Our marriage? Have you thought about that?
They argued fiercely that evening, louder than ever before. By morning, Peter announced his decision: he would go to London alone, and if Eliza loved him, she should understand and support him.
Eliza spent the next days mulling over everything herself, her husband, her daughter, their future. She realised she faced a choice: either accept a slow erosion of herself and her marriage, or make a change.
On the day of Peters departure, she packed his suitcase, helped Hope into a stroller, and called a taxi.
Where are you off to? Peter asked, surprised.
Were taking you to the station.
Oh, right then.
At the train station, with only minutes left before departure, Eliza kissed Peter and said, I love you, Peter. I always will. But I cant keep living under your parents roof. Hope and I are going back to our old flat.
What? he stammered. Youre moving out? What about Mum and Dad?
Theyre lovely people, great grandparents, but I want to raise my daughter myself and try to save our marriage while theres still time.
You cant do that!
I can, Peter. I will. Go to your fellowship, think, work, grow. Hope and I will be waiting at home, in our home.
She turned and walked out, handinhand with Hope, her heart thudding like a drum. It felt possibly the most foolish decision shed ever made yet something inside told her it was the truly wise wifes move.
Mom, did Daddy go to work? Hope asked in the taxi.
Yes, love. Daddy went to work. Hell be back.
And where are we going?
Home, sweetheart. Were going home.
The first few days in the old flat were rough. Hope threw tantrums, calling for Grandma. The phone rang nonstop with Agnes demanding the baby back. Eliza had to take unpaid leave to rearrange the household routine.
Peter was silent for a week, then sent a brief text: How are you?
Fine, getting settled, Eliza replied.
Life slowly settled into a new rhythm. Eliza plunged into motherhood. She and Hope visited parks, the zoo, a puppet theatre. Evenings were spent reading, drawing, modelling with PlayDoh. To her surprise, Hope seemed calmer and happier than when shed been with her grandparents.
Peter called rarely, offering terse updates about the fellowship, new colleagues, scientific breakthroughs. He never asked how they were coping. Eliza didnt push, but she sent him photos of Hopes milestones.
Three months later, after tucking Hope to sleep, Eliza was reading when the doorbell rang. Peter stood there, clutching a massive bouquet of wildflowers her favourite.
May I come in? he asked, a hint of nerves in his voice.
Eliza stepped aside, letting him in.
Is Hope asleep? he whispered, slipping off his shoes.
Just dozed off, she answered.
Hows she?
Happy. She misses you.
Peter sank onto the couch, placing the bouquet beside him.
And you? he asked quietly. Do you miss me?
Eliza sat beside him, not touching.
Very much, she admitted.
Ive finally understood, Ellie, he said suddenly. I was running from problems, taking the cowardly shortcut.
What now?
Now I want to make the hard but right choice. I want to come back to you. If youll have me.
What about the fellowship?
I finished it early. I did everything they asked and more. They offered me a permanent post in London, good salary, career prospects.
You turned it down? Eliza guessed.
Yes. Because I realised I need none of that without you and Hope. I want to be with you, wherever we are. The location doesnt matter; being together does.
And your parents?
I spoke to them, seriously, perhaps for the first time. I told them well decide our own way of raising Hope. They can help, but not command. Mum was shocked, of course, but I think shell come around.
Eliza looked at Peter and saw in his eyes something she hadnt seen in ages resolve and love, the deep kind.
You know what else Ive realised? Peter continued. Youre the wiser one. You saw what I couldnt, did what I lacked the courage to do pull us out of that endless loop.
I wasnt sure I was doing the right thing, Eliza admitted. It was a risk.
That risk wasnt a foolish choice, but a wise one.
Peter reached out, gently touching her cheek.
Will you forgive me?
Instead of answering, Eliza leaned forward and kissed him. From the bedroom came a tiny voice:
Mum, is Daddy home?
They both laughed, rose from their seats, and walked together to their daughter. Eliza realised that sometimes the choices that look foolish at first turn out to be the smartest. And sometimes you just need a dash of bravery to take the decisive step that saves what truly matters.
