Poppy, Ive changed my mind about marrying you. My exboyfriend proposed againhes more promising, the bride announced on her wedding day.
Emily, we need to talk, said Poppy, standing in the doorway of the grooms suite. She was radiant in her wedding dress, but her face wore a strange, resolute expression.
Peter looked up in surprise. He had just finished tying his bow tie and was about to step out. The ceremony was only thirty minutes away.
Emily, whats this? Youre not supposed to see the groom before the wedding, he said with a smile. Its a bad omen.
Bad omens now? she replied, stepping forward and shutting the door tightly behind her. In the eyes that had always loved him, there was now something foreign and cold. I have something to tell you.
Peter felt a knot tighten inside. Hed known Emily for four years and could read every intonation and glance. Hed never seen her look like this before.
Whats happened? he asked, though his intuition was already screaming that nothing good would follow.
Emily inhaled deeply, as if preparing to jump into icy water.
Ive changed my mind about marrying you, she said evenly. My exboyfriend has proposed again. Hes more promising.
Peter stared at her, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. Outside the hotel in York, the June sun shone brightly. Down below, guests were gathering, the bridesmaids were laughing, music played. Inside that room, his world was crumbling.
Youre joking? he managed at last.
No. Im sorry, she lowered her eyes. I know this is terrible timing, but its better now than later.
Later? Peters anger surged. You were going to suffer with me? All these four years were what? Waiting for something better?
Emily flinched as if shed just been hit with a toothache.
Dont simplify it. It was good with you, truly. But James hes always been special to me. You knew that from the start.
Peter did know. When they met at a mutual friends birthday party, Emily had just broken up with James Whitakera successful entrepreneur who owned a chain of restaurants. Their twoyear romance ended abruptly when James moved to the United States to expand his business, leaving Emily heartbroken.
Peter had patiently collected the pieces of her heart month by month, never rushing, never pressuring. He was simply therereliable, understanding, caring. Eventually, Emily seemed to return his feelings, at least thats how he believed it was.
Hes back? Peter asked, trying to steady his thoughts. When?
A month ago, Emily said quietly. He called while you were on a work trip to Manchester.
And you decided just like that? In a month?
It wasnt simple, she lifted her gaze, her resolve clear. I fought with myself, honestly. But when he proposed Peter, you have to understand. Hes opening a restaurant empire in Europe. Ill have my own cosmetics line. Its a completely different life.
Peter stared at the woman hed called the love of his life that morningbeautiful, intelligent, ambitious. She worked as a manager in a salon, dreaming of her own business. He supported her dreams, even though he was just a modest engineer earning a decent, but unremarkable, salary.
What about our plans? he asked. The house we talked about? Children?
I have other plans, she said, stepping back toward the door. I must go. James is waiting downstairs.
Here? Peter could not believe his ears. He came to the wedding day?
I asked him to come, Emily reached for the door handle. I didnt want to be alone after this conversation.
What about the guests? My mother drove all the way here to see us
Ill explain to everyone, she interrupted. Ill say its my fault, that this is a sudden decision.
Its a sudden decision! Peter raised his voice. Just yesterday you said you loved me! This morning you kissed me and promised happiness!
I was wrong, Emily lowered her eyes. Im sorry this happened.
And she left, closing the door softly behind her.
Peter stood in the middle of the room, stunned, crushed, unable to process what was happening. The clock on the wall read fifteen minutes to the ceremony. Somewhere below, guests waited, music played, everything was set for a celebration that would never occur.
He sank onto the bed, loosening his bow tie. Fragments of thoughts whirled in his head: why? How could she? What now? How could he face those people?
The door opened again, this time without a knock. Igor, his best man and closest friend, stepped in.
Peter, whats happening? he looked bewildered. Emily just walked through the hall in her wedding dress, crying. She got into a black Jaguar with a man and drove off. What the
Shes not marrying me, Peter said dryly. Her ex is back. Hes more promising, you see.
Igor opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.
Bloody hell on the wedding day? Seriously?
More than seriously, Peter stood, pacing the room. We have to tell the guests. Cancel everything.
Ill help, Igor placed a hand on his shoulder. How are you holding up?
I dont know, Peter admitted. I feel like Im in a nightmare.
Going to the guests was the hardest thing hed ever doneannouncing that the wedding was off, enduring sympathetic looks, whispered gossip, questions. Emilys parents looked as shocked as he did; evidently she hadnt confided in them. His own mother, who had travelled from Birmingham, wept, repeating, How could this happen, my son?
That evening, after everyone had left and the paid banquet lay untouched, Peter sat alone in the suite, staring at a blank wall. His phone buzzed nonstop with calls and messagesfrom friends, colleagues, relatives. He answered none.
Here, Igor, who had stayed, handed him a glass of whisky. Drink. Itll ease the sting.
Peter took the glass without a word, feeling the burn in his throat but no relief.
You know whats worst? he said after a long pause. I always felt she wasnt fully mine, that somewhere deep down she still carried Jamess image. I thought time would wash it away.
It happens, Igor said, sitting opposite him. First love, all that. But to dump you on the wedding day thats beyond the pale.
She always loved grand gestures, Peter said bitterly. Remember how we met?
At Sophies birthday, Igor answered. She was sitting there looking miserable in a black dress, mourning a past love.
And I walked up and said?
Maybe black isnt your colour, Igor finished, smiling. I gave her that ridiculous daisy from a pot.
She smiled for the first time that night, Peter recalled, closing his eyes. She said then that life goes on.
And now shes left you for the same bloke she once mourned, Igor shook his head. Lifes a cheeky trickster.
The night passed without sleep. Peter lay on the ceiling, replaying the last four yearshappy moments, fights, reconciliations, future plans. Was it all a lie? Or had she truly loved him until James reappeared?
In the morning he returned to the flat theyd shared to pack his things. He opened the door with his key and felt an emptiness. Emily had already taken her favourite knickknacks, photos, her cosmetics.
On the kitchen table lay an envelope. Inside was a note and the flats spare key.
Peter, Im sorry for everything. Youre a good man and deserve happiness. I have to follow my own path. Ill collect my things later. E
Brief, dry, no apologies, as if four years could be erased with a slip of paper.
Peter sank onto the couch where theyd spent countless evenings watching films and dreaming. The couch, which theyd argued over in a furniture shopshe wanted beige for practicality, he wanted a bold bluenow felt like a relic. A blue couch is too bachelorish, shed said then. Were a family.
Family the word now burned his mind.
That day he gathered his belongings and moved in with Igor, who offered him a spare room until things settled. He took a leave from his engineering jobhis boss, understanding the situation, approved it. He fell into a numbness that neither friends nor relatives could pull him from.
A week later, his old university friend, Lucy, called.
Peter, can we meet? I need to talk.
They met in a small café near Igors flat. Lucy looked both embarrassed and determined.
You know Ive known Emily since university, she began after a brief hello. I feel awkward bringing this up, but you should know something.
About her and James? Peter forced a bitter smile. No thanks, Ive had enough.
Its not about them. Its about you, Lucy said, leaning forward. I overheard a conversation between Emily and James before the wedding. They were talking about you.
What did they say? Peter asked, uneasy.
James asked why she ever agreed to marry you, Lucy paused. She replied, Hes reliable, predictable, safe. With him its comfortable, but boring.
Peter felt a cold pressure in his chest. Boring. The word struck deeper than any betrayal.
And then James said, Hes a simple engineer. Whats exciting about that? Emily answered, He loves me genuinely, cares for me. With him I feel like a stone wall. James laughed and said, A stone wall is great, but living against it feels like being sealed in. She agreed.
Peter stared at his coffee, the steam rising like thoughts. Anger, hurt, disappointment swirled, but the strongest feeling was shame. He realized he had indeed been the dependable, predictable one.
Why tell me this now? he asked.
Because its not true, Lucy said, meeting his gaze. Youre not boring. Youre thoughtful, witty, with a great sense of humour. With Emily you just dimmed, became a shadow. You held back, cancelled trips, stopped seeing friends, all because she feared for you. You lost parts of yourself.
You never said any of this before? Peter whispered.
Would you have listened? Lucy shook her head. You saw her as a goddess, an ideal. Its not your fault she chose a flashier sparkle. James is a fireworkbright, loud, and burns out fast.
Lucy left, and something shifted in Peter. He returned to work, found a new flat, began jogging each morningsomething hed abandoned because Emily didnt like him leaving at dawn. The pain slowly dulled. He still woke up sometimes with a hollow feeling, still caught himself thinking, I should have told Emily, but life moved on.
Three months later, he spotted her in a shopping centre, standing in front of a jewellery window, looking at rings. She was still as striking, confident, bright.
Hello, he said, approaching.
Emily jumped, turning with a flash of surprise, embarrassment, something indefinable.
Peter hi, she forced a smile. How are you?
Better than three months ago, he replied honestly. Picking rings again?
She blushed, looking away.
Yes, James and I in a month.
Congratulations, he said, genuinely. I hope it goes through this time.
Peter, she began, biting her lip. I know its painful for you. Im really sorry
No need, he raised a hand, stopping her. Everythings said. I just wanted to thank you.
For what? she asked, genuinely puzzled.
For leaving, he said simply. If you hadnt, I would still be living someone elses life, losing myself.
She frowned.
Its unnecessary, he smiled. Goodbye, Emily. Be happy.
He walked away feeling a lightness he hadnt felt in years, as if a weight had finally been lifted.
That evening his phone rang. The caller ID showed Emilys number.
Hello? Peter answered, curiosity, not anger, in his voice.
Peter, can we talk? her voice sounded unsteady.
We spoke just now, he reminded her.
No, I mean seriously. I cant stop thinking about what you said about losing yourself.
Whats there to think about? he shrugged. I meant exactly what I said.
Were you unhappy with me? she asked, a hint of hurt in her tone.
No, he answered honestly. I was happy, but it was a happiness built on giving up parts of memy wishes, my interests, my principles. I became smaller, quieter, more convenient.
Silence lingered. Then she asked, Did I lose myself with you?
I dont think so, he chuckled. You always knew what you wanted and chased it.
Another pause. Peter, maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I shouldnt have left
Stop, he cut in. Dont do that. You made a choice you believed was right, and I accepted it. Theres no going back.
Why? she whispered, tears in her voice. If we both erred
Because I no longer want to be the spare runway, he said firmly. I wont be a backup, watching you look for something brighter, something more promising.
She whispered, Youve changed.
Yes, he agreed. And thats perhaps the only positive outcome of our story. Thank you for the call, Emily, but please, dont call again.
He hung up, inhaled deeply. A strange mix of sorrow and relief settled within him. One chapter had closed; another lay ahead, waiting for him to write it.
Six months later, perched on the viewing platform of a ski resort in the Lake District, Peter finally fulfilled a longheld dreamlearning to ski. The sun glittered on the snowy slope, and he felt pure happiness.
A beautiful view, isnt it? a female voice called from beside him.
He turned to see a woman in a bright blue ski jacket, her brown eyes sparkling with gold flecks.
Very, Peter replied, smiling. First time?
Its my third, she said, taking off a glove and extending her hand. Anna.
Peter, he shook it. Youre a pro?
More a stubborn hobbyist, she laughed. I fall a lot but always get back up. And you?
Just a beginner, finally chasing a dream, he said, watching the slopes where skiers darted. You know, we often put things off, thinking someday. Then we realise, if not now, maybe never.
A philosopher, she said, tilting her head. I like people who think about life.
And I like people who can fall and get up again, he replied. Want to tackle this slope together? I promise a graceful tumble.
Deal, Anna giggled, her laughter echoing over the snowcapped hills. First one to the cafe at the bottom buys mulled wine!
She shot down the hill, Peter following, his heart filling with untainted joy. For the first time in a long while he felt completely, unmistakably himself. All the loss and heartache had led him back to this moment.
Sometimes you must lose something valuable to discover something pricelessyour true self.
