John Stewart was at a conservation center in San Fernando De Apure in Venezuela. He was 28 and was from New England in USA. He was also a passionate volunteer and a professional journalist.
At the conservation forest gate his roaming eyes unflinchingly caught glimpse of a smartly dressed female tour guide, she was of average height with thick dark hair and eyes, and was a local whose name was Isabella. While he explored, his luring personality drew her close enough to him. By the end of the tour they had gotten along quite well and had introduced themselves briefly. And his decidedly extended stay gradually led them to knowing each other better.
Five years of biannual visitation had passed. sometimes he took detours from neighbouring countries just to see her. And on few occasions she would show him around places he had never been to, and introduce him to locals she knew.
Their fondness and attraction had grown with leaps and bounds, and was maturing into love. But her family would not allow their union; they wanted a man from the locals who understands their culture and speaks their language. They wanted not a foreigner with a different history and background. Hence he decided he would move over, quitting his decent paying job, and jetting the convenient lifestyle for a basic rural lifestyle.
After a few years he learnt the language and cultural lifestyle of the locals and was warmly accepted by her family. He was made to promise never to deter from their ways and treat their daughter with love. But a few weeks before their marriage she had fallen seriously ill. And was diagnosed of chronic adenomyosis. It was an infection of the womb that prevents women from giving birth. At the annunciation point, John felt a striking devastating feeling. He knew she had always loved children and he loved children too. They had planned as many children as they could but now their plans were seemingly becoming out of reach. He could see the devastation and painful disappointment visibly present on her composition, as he sight dripping tears trickle down her face. He reached his arm and held her tightly and kissed her fore head softly, whispering into her ears
“You know that orphanage home at San Mateo… I’ve seen beautiful girls and boys play at the flourishing field in there. Perhaps we could adopt one or as many as our house could accommodate. We could share our love with them, and give them what we earnestly yearned.”
She abruptly lifted her head, staring blankly into his eyes. Her eyes were glittering and brimming with anxiety and awe, her heart racing faster and seemingly none stop. She wanted to say something but her guts were sore and numb. She was sensing an elating feeling she knew well. It was love; and it wasn’t just the selfish kind, it was also the unselfish kind.
This story won the third position in the February 2019 edition of the UNTOLD STORY CONTEST.