Jake and Mary Jacobs marked their 70th anniversary of a happy marriage last year, but their journey wasn’t simple.
Mary, who is White, and Jake, who is Black, lived in the same city in 1940s Britain. At that time, there weren’t many Black men there.
Even though Mary’s father told her to leave, Mary chose love over easy choices.
“When I told my father I was going to marry Jake, he said, ‘If you marry that man, you will never set foot in this house again.’”
Mary and Jake first met at a technical college where Mary was learning typing and shorthand, and Jake was undergoing Air Force training. They met during the war when Jake moved from Trinidad to Britain.
Jake impressed Mary with his understanding of Shakespeare, and they got to know each other. One day, they invited Mary and her friend to join them for a picnic. Unfortunately, someone passing by saw them and reported Mary to her father. The woman was shocked to see two English girls talking with black guys. After this incident, Mary wasn’t allowed to visit her father again.
After Jake returned to Trinidad, they kept in touch through letters. A few years later, he came back to the U.K. to find a better-paying job.
Jake surprised Mary by proposing, and she, at 19, said yes. However, when she told her family, they kicked her out.
“I left with only one small suitcase. No family came to our registry office wedding in 1948.”
Mary’s father was upset about her marrying a black man, and Mary didn’t realize that society felt the same way.
The early years of their marriage in Birmingham were tough. Mary cried every day, hardly ate, and they faced many challenges. Nobody would talk to them, they couldn’t find a place to live because nobody would rent to a black man, and they had little money.
Even walking down the street together was hard because people would point at them, Mary explained.
Mary and Jake were excited to become parents, but at eight months, Mary gave birth to a stillborn child. She mentioned it wasn’t due to the stress she was under, but it deeply saddened them, and they didn’t have any more children.
As time passed, their lives improved. Mary became a teacher and eventually an assistant principal, while Jake found a job with the Post Office. They made new friends, but Mary felt the need to explain to people that her husband was black before introducing them.
“My father passed away when I was 30, and even though we reconciled by then, he never approved of Jake,” she shared.
Currently, Jake, 89, and Mary, 84, live in Solihull, a town south of Birmingham. They recently celebrated 70 years of marriage.
Jake said he has no regrets, but he also mentioned that today’s black youth may not fully understand the challenges he faced in 1940s Britain.
“When I arrived in the U.K., I faced abuse every day. Once, on a bus, a man rubbed his hands on my neck and said, ‘I wanted to see if the dirt would come off.’ Back then, working in an office as a black man with white girls wasn’t considered safe,” Jake explained.
Despite all the challenges, bias, and abuse, the pair is still deeply in love and has no regrets about being married. They have been happily married for more than 70 years.
These two are a true inspiration, and I wish them a lifetime of pleasure because of the love they have for one another.
My MIL Rented Out the House I Was Living In to a Stranger Behind My Back — Story of the Day
The night I thought someone had broken into my house. I had no idea the real betrayal had started much earlier and from someone I trusted most — my MIL.
After my husband passed away, my life fell apart like an old photo album: the pictures were the same, but the reality was completely different. When Tim finally started preschool, I went back to work. I had no choice. Money was catastrophically tight.
“Well, at least there’s coffee… or not,” I muttered one morning.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The lifeless coffee maker had been mocking me since spring. Every attempt to revive it ended with burnt fingers and a sharp smell of fried wires.
Life had become an endless checklist: work, pick up Tim, pay bills, fix the washing machine, replace the hallway lightbulb, patch the fence — because, as I sarcastically told my friends:
“The neighbor’s cats have turned my lawn into their personal Coachella.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Hey, Claire, maybe just hire a handyman?” Megan suggested over the phone one evening.
“Haha, sure, if he works for cookies and hugs.”
Our life used to be so neatly organized with my husband: he fixed everything, and I handled everything else. In the end, I was trying to be the handyman, accountant, and therapist all at once.
And honestly? I am barely scraping by.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
There wasn’t even time to grieve properly. I held onto life with both hands and teeth. And somehow, after a few months, I managed to create a fragile routine. For the first time in a long time, I could finally breathe.
“Maybe I’ll even turn into Wonder Woman,” I giggled.
I just didn’t know that my next big skill would be surviving a home invasion… in my favorite pajamas.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
***
That evening, everything was going according to plan.
Tim was sound asleep in his room across the hall.
I loaded the dishwasher and finally curled up in bed with a mug of steaming chamomile tea. My laptop was open, the quarterly report blinking at me from the screen. I exhaled with satisfaction.
“Alright, Claire. Maybe you’ll actually finish this on time for once!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The house was quiet. Peaceful. Until — click.
“What was that?” I whispered into the silence.
A few heartbeats later, I heard footsteps. Heavy. Purposeful. Someone was rummaging in the kitchen drawers. My heart slammed into my ribs.
“Tim? Tim, is that you?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
No answer.
The footsteps grew louder. Heavier. Someone was climbing upstairs.
The first stair creaked.
Then the second.
The third.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
I shoved my feet into my slippers and grabbed the first thing I could reach — a can of deodorant.
The steps were closer now. My skin prickled with cold sweat.
“Oh God… Please, not a maniac. Not tonight. Not while I’m wearing striped pajamas.”
The door to my bedroom creaked open. And there, silhouetted against the dim hallway light, stood a man.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Aaaaaah!”
I unleashed a furious cloud of deodorant straight into his face.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”
The man shouted, shielding himself with both hands. “What are you doing?!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Get out of my house!” I shrieked, brandishing the deodorant like a sword. “I know karate!”
The man flailed, stumbling backward blindly. I sprinted past him, scooped up a sleepy Tim from his bed, and charged down the stairs.
Sleepy Tim was mumbling, “Five more minutes, Mom…”
I punched at my phone screen, missing the numbers at least three times before finally connecting to 911.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Oh God,” I gasped, pressing Tim tighter against me. “Hurry, please, hurry!”
Sirens began to howl somewhere nearby.
“Hold on, kiddo. Mom’s still standing. And Mom’s mad as hell.”
At that moment, I still had no idea that the “intruder” might have more legal rights to my house than I did.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
In five minutes, two officers escorted the man outside, his hands cuffed behind his back. He blinked, looking genuinely bewildered about what had just happened.
I stood there wrapped in my blanket, shaking like a leaf in the wind. One officer leaned toward me.
“So, you’re saying this man broke into your home?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Yes!” I nearly shouted. “He broke in! In the middle of the night! I thought he was here to rob me! Or… or eat me!”
The officers exchanged a glance. One of them turned back to the man.
“Sir? Your side of the story?”
The man swallowed hard and nodded toward his backpack lying at his feet.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I… I rented this place. The lease is inside.”
One of the officers bent down, opened the backpack, and pulled out a folder.
I raised an eyebrow so high it could’ve touched the ceiling.
“What lease?! This is MY house!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The officer flipped through the papers carefully.
“Hmm. According to this, Robert is a legal tenant. Landlord listed as Sylvia.”
“WHAT?!” I shrieked so loudly that the neighbor’s dog started barking again.
“That’s my mother-in-law!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Ma’am,” the officer said gently, “in that case, this is a civil matter. We can’t evict him. You’ll need to resolve it through court.”
I stared at them, slack-jawed.
“You mean… he stays?”
“Until a judge says otherwise, yes.”
Robert cautiously stepped closer, rubbing his wrists awkwardly.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. If you want, I’ll leave.”
I sighed so hard that both officers winced.
“No… just stay for now. There’s a guest room on the first floor. Private bathroom. And please… no more surprise appearances upstairs.”
“Of course!” Robert agreed quickly. “Quieter than a mouse.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“A mouse that already shredded my nerves,” I muttered under my breath.
The real storm, however, was still on its way — and its name was Sylvia.
***
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of… coffee. I narrowed my eyes at the kitchen door.
“What now? A UFO crash landing?”
I threw on my sweater and crept downstairs. And there it was: a picture-perfect breakfast. Omelets, buttered toast, jam, fresh-brewed coffee…
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
And, miracle of miracles, my coffee maker was working again like a resurrected phoenix rising from the ashes.
“Um… did you do all this?” I asked cautiously, staring at Robert, who stood by the stove flipping eggs.
“A peace offering,” he said, smiling. “And your coffee maker? It just had a loose wire.”
“Seriously?” I groaned. “A whole month without coffee… because of one tiny wire?!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Glad I could help,” he said, giving a cheeky wink.
I took a sip and almost moaned with pleasure. Actual, real, life-changing coffee.
And then…
“BAM!”
The front door burst open.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“How DARE you treat him like that!” Sylvia shrieked, storming inside with the force of a small tornado. “That poor boy! Have you no heart?!”
“Sylvia,” I said, setting my mug down before I shattered it, “did you rent out MY house?”
“My son’s house!” she yelled. “And I needed the money! For porch repairs! And a new clothes dryer!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I blinked.
“I have a will! The house was left to ME!”
Sylvia lifted her chin defiantly.
“A will is one thing. Registering ownership is another, sweetheart. You dragged your feet. So technically, it’s still partly mine.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Even if that were true, you can’t just rent out a house without telling me!”
“You’ve got plenty of space! Robert’s a writer! You wouldn’t even notice him!”
“Oh really. Hard to miss a giant sneaking through my hallway!”
Robert shuffled awkwardly, clearing his throat.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“If I’m causing problems, I’ll refund the money and find somewhere else.”
“You already paid for a whole year!” Sylvia wailed. “And I spent it! I bought the dryer! And a neck massager!”
I blinked. Twice.
“Sylvia… Do you realize that’s basically fraud?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
She shrugged like it was nothing.
“I can only pay back what’s left — maybe enough for nine months.”
I stared at her, disbelief buzzing in my head.
“So you can refund nine months, but three months are already gone?”
She gave a very unapologetic nod.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Exactly.”
I exhaled sharply, turning to Robert.
“Alright then. Robert, stay for the three months you already paid for. That way, you’ll have time to find a new place, and she,” I shot Sylvia a sharp look, “will return the rest.”
Robert gave me a small, warm smile.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Fair enough.”
“Fair,” he agreed warmly.
I turned back to Sylvia, staring her down. “No more surprises, Sylvia. Ever.”
When the front door slammed shut behind Sylvia, I exhaled for what felt like the first time in months. I had no idea that chaos could sometimes bring unexpected peace… and even something better.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
***
Three months flew by faster than I ever expected. Robert stayed in the guest room just like we agreed, but somehow, he quickly became part of the house.
He never imposed — he was simply there, fixing the fence and clearing clogged gutters. In the evenings, he played soccer with Tim in the backyard, their laughter echoing across the neighborhood.
At first, I kept my distance. I told myself he was just a tenant, just temporary.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
But day after day, it became harder to ignore how his laughter filled the empty spaces of our home, how he always knew exactly when I needed a helping hand, or just someone to sit beside me in silence.
On weekends, he read drafts of his articles out loud at the kitchen table while I sipped coffee, pretending to be a harsh literary critic.
Tim adored him. But most of all, something inside me began to heal. The walls I had built around my heart since losing my husband… started to crack.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
One evening, I sat on the front porch, watching Robert chase Tim across the yard with a soccer ball. I was breathing in the quiet joy of the moment and thought:
“I think you’d be okay with this, my love. I think you’d be smiling, seeing me laugh again.”
Robert jogged over to the porch, slightly out of breath, and sat down beside me without a word.
After a moment, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against mine. And for the first time since I could remember, I didn’t pull away.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
Leave a Reply