Emily, Im calling off the wedding, she said, her voice steady as a knife. My expartner proposed againhes got a better future for me. The words hit the room like a clenched fist.
Connor, we need to talk, Emily stood in the grooms suite doorway, radiant in her ivory wedding dress, but her face bore an unfamiliar resolve.
Connor lifted his head, surprised. He had just finished knotting his bow tie and was about to step out. The ceremony was a halfhour away.
Emily, you cant see the groom before the vows, he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Its a bad omen.
Arent you still believing in omens? she snapped, stepping forward and shutting the door behind her. In the eyes that had always loved him, a cold, alien look now flickered. I have something to tell you.
A jagged feeling tore inside Connor. Hed known Emily for four years, learning every nuance of her tone and glance. Hed never seen her like this.
Whats happening? he asked, though his gut screamed that nothing good would follow.
Emily inhaled deeply, as if bracing to jump into icy water.
Ive changed my mind, she said evenly. My ex has proposed again. Hes more promising.
Connor stared, disbelief flashing across his face. Beyond the hotel window, June sunshine bathed the streets of London, guests were gathering downstairs, laughter and music floated up. In that small suite, his world collapsed.
Youre joking, he managed at last.
No, Emily whispered, eyes dropping. I know this is terrible, but better now than a lifetime of regret.
Regret? Connors anger rose like a tide. You thought wed spend four years waiting for something better?
Emily winced, as if in physical pain.
Dont simplify it. It was good with you, truly. But Oliver hes always been special to me. You knew that from the start.
Connor remembered. Theyd met at a mutual friends birthday party; Emily had just broken up with Oliver Hart, a successful restaurateur who had left for New York to expand his business, leaving her heart in shards.
Connor had patiently gathered the pieces of her heart, month by month, never pressuring, just being theresteady, understanding, caring. Eventually, Emily seemed to return his feelings, or so he believed.
Did he come back? Connor asked, trying to steady himself. When?
A month ago, Emily replied softly. He called while you were on a work trip to Manchester.
And you decided this in a month?
It wasnt easy, she said, eyes hardening with resolve. But when he offeredConnor, you have to understand. Hes launching a restaurant empire across Europe. Ill have my own cosmetics line. Its a completely different life.
Connor watched the woman hed called the love of his life that morningbeautiful, intelligent, ambitiousnow a stranger. Shed been a manager at a boutique salon, dreaming of her own business, while he was a modest engineer earning a decent, though unremarkable, salary.
What about our plans? he asked. The house we talked about? Children?
I have other plans, Emily stepped back toward the door. I should go. Oliver is waiting downstairs.
Here? Connors voice cracked. Hes arrived on our wedding day?
I asked him to come, Emily said, gripping the door handle. I didnt want to be alone after this conversation.
What about the guests? My mother travelled from Leeds to see us
Ill explain to everyone, she cut in. Ill say its my fault, an impulsive decision.
Its impulsive! Connor shouted. Yesterday you swore you loved me! This morning you kissed me and promised happiness!
I was wrong, Emily lowered her gaze. Im sorry.
She closed the door behind her, the click echoing in the silent suite.
Connor stood, stunned, the clock ticking fifteen minutes to the ceremony. Downstairs, guests waited, music played, the celebration prepared to unfoldnow impossible.
He sank onto the bed, loosening his bow tie. Thoughts spiraled: why? How could she? What now? How would he face the crowd?
The door opened again, this time without a knock. Ian, his best man and oldest friend, stepped in, eyes wide.
Connor, whats happened? Ian asked, bewildered. Emily just walked through the hallway in her dress, crying, with a man. They got into a black Mercedes and left. What the
She wont marry me, Connor said flatly. Her ex is backmore promising, you see.
Ians mouth opened, closed, then he muttered, Bloody hell on the wedding day?
More than that, Connor replied, pacing. We have to tell the guests. Cancel everything.
Ill help, Ian said, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. What do you need?
I dont know, Connor admitted. It feels like a nightmare.
Going out to the guests became the hardest thing hed ever done. Announcing the weddings cancellation, fielding sympathetic looks, whispered gossip, frantic questions. Emilys parents looked as stunned as he didclearly unaware of her plans. His own mother, whod driven up from Bath, wept, repeating, How could this happen, love?
When the reception hall finally emptied, the unpaid banquet lay untouched. Connor sat alone in the suite, his phone buzzing with calls and messagesfrom friends, colleagues, relativesnone of which he answered.
Ian, have a drink, his friend offered, handing over a glass of whisky. Itll take the edge off.
Connor took a sip; the burn hit his throat, but the pain lingered.
Do you know whats the worst part? he said after a long pause. I always felt she wasnt entirely mine. That somewhere inside she kept Olivers image. I hoped time would wash it away.
It happens, Ian replied, sitting opposite. First loves, all that. But to dump her on the daywell, thats crossing a line.
She always loved grand gestures, Connor muttered bitterly. Remember how we first met?
At Sophies birthday, Ian said, nodding. She was in a black dress, looking miserable over a breakup.
And I walked over and said?
Maybe black isnt your colour? Ian finished, smiling at the memory. I gave her a daisy from a pot.
She smiled for the first time that evening, Connor recalled, closing his eyes. She said life went on.
And now shes left you for the same man she mourned, Ian said, shaking his head. Lifes a cruel joker.
That night, sleep eluded Connor. He lay staring at the ceiling, replaying four yearshappy moments, fights, reconciliations, future plansnow feeling like lies. Had she ever truly love him, or only until Oliver resurfaced?
Morning found him back in their rented flat, gathering his things. The door opened with his key, and an emptiness flooded the room. Emilys belongings were gonefigurines, framed photos, her makeup. On the kitchen table lay an envelope.
Inside, a brief note and a spare key.
Connor, Im sorry for everything. Youre a good man and deserve happiness. I have to walk my own path. Ill collect my things later. E
Short, dry, no remorse, as if four years could be crossed out with a single slip of paper.
He sank onto the sofa theyd chosen together after a long debate over colourEmily had insisted on beige, practical; he wanted bold blue. Blue sofas are for single lads, shed teased. Were a family, shed replied.
Family the word now seared his mind.
He packed his belongings and moved in with Ian, who offered a spare room. He took a few days off work; his boss, understanding the situation, approved the leave. A strange numbness settled over him, one that friends and family could not pull him from.
A week later, Sophie called.
Connor, can we meet? she said, tension in her voice. I need to talk.
They met at a small café near Ians flat. Sophie looked both shy and determined.
Ive known Emily since university, she began. I hate to meddle, but you should hear this.
About her and Oliver? Connor asked, a bitter smile on his lips. No thanks, Im fine.
Its not that, Sophie said, leaning forward. I overheard a conversation before the wedding. They were talking about you.
What did they say? Connor asked, uneasy.
Oliver asked why shed agree to marry you, Sophie paused. She answered, Youre reliable, safe, predictable. Its comfortable, but boring.
The word boring hit Connor harder than any blow. It cut deeper than the betrayal.
Then Oliver said, Hes just a simple engineer. Whats there in him? And Emily replied, He loves me, truly. With him I feel like a stone wall. Oliver laughed, A stone wall is solid, but living inside it feels like being buried.
Connor sat, coffee cooling untouched. A storm of emotions roaredanger, hurt, shame. The shame was the worst: he was the predictable, the safe choice.
Why tell me this? he asked.
Because its not true, Connor, Sophie said, meeting his gaze. Youre not boring. Youre thoughtful, witty, kind. With Emily you became a shadow, afraid to step beyond her expectations.
He remembered how often hed compromised, cancelled trips to the Lake District because Emily feared for him, how hed stopped seeing friends she disliked.
Why didnt you say this sooner? he whispered.
Would you have listened? Sophie replied, shaking her head. You adored her like a goddess. Now you hear it because youre hurting.
Is this because you feel sorry for me?
No, she said firmly. Its because you deserve to know the truth. It isnt you; its her endless chase for something brighter, flashier. Oliver is a fireworks displaybright, loud, impressive, then it fizzles out.
The conversation shifted something inside Connor. He emerged from the fog, returned to work, found a new flat, resumed his morning runssomething hed given up because Emily disliked early outings.
The ache lessened over time, though occasional midnight emptiness lingered. He still caught himself thinking, I should have told Emily but life moved on.
Three months later, he spotted Emily in a highstreet jeweller, eyeing rings. She was still the same striking, confident woman. His heart clenched involuntarily.
Hello, he called, approaching.
Emily turned, surprise flashing across her face, then a mixture of emotionsastonishment, embarrassment, something indefinable.
Connor hi, she managed, forcing a smile. How are you?
Better than three months ago, he replied honestly. Still looking at rings?
She blushed, looking away.
Yes, Oliver and I soon.
Congratulations, he said, surprisingly sincere. I hope this one goes through.
Connor, she began, biting her lip. I know it hurts. Im sorry
Dont, he raised a hand, stopping her. Its said already. I just wanted to thank you. He swallowed, choosing his words. Thank you for leaving. If you hadnt, Id still be living someone elses life, losing myself.
Do you understand? she asked, genuinely puzzled.
No need to, he smiled. Goodbye, Emily. Be happy.
He walked away, feeling a lightness he hadnt felt in years, as if a heavy load had been dropped.
That evening his phone rang. The caller ID read Emily.
Yes? he answered, curiosity, not anger, in his tone.
Connor, can we talk? her voice trembled, unsteady.
We spoke already, he replied.
No, I mean I cant stop thinking about what you saidabout living a foreign life, losing yourself.
Whats there to think about? he shrugged, though she couldnt see it. I meant exactly that.
Were you unhappy with me? she asked, a hint of hurt in her tone.
No, he answered truthfully. I was happy, but it was a happiness that required me to give up parts of myselfmy wishes, my interests, my principles. I became a version of you wanted, quieter, more convenient.
Silence lingered. Then she whispered, Did I lose myself with you?
I dont think so, he chuckled. You always knew what you wanted and chased it.
Another pause. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldnt have
Stop, he cut in. You made the choice you thought was right. I accepted it. Theres no going back.
Why? her voice trembled with tears. If we both made mistakes
Because Im done being the backup plan, he said firmly. I wont be a safety net while you look for something brighter, more prospective.
Youve changed, she said after a beat.
Yes, he agreed. And thats the only positive outcome of our story. Thank you for the call, Emily, but please, dont call again.
He hung up, inhaling deeply. A strange blend of sadness and relief washed over him. One chapter closed; another lay ahead, waiting for him to write it.
Six months later, on a crisp December morning, Connor stood on the viewing platform of a ski resort in the Scottish Highlands. Hed finally fulfilled a longheld dreamlearning to ski. The sun glittered on the powdery slope, and he felt pure happiness.
Beautiful, isnt it? a voice called beside him.
He turned to see a woman in a bright blue ski jacket, eyes brown with golden flecks, smiling.
Very, he replied, returning the smile. First time?
Its my third, she said, taking off a glove and extending a hand. Anna.
Connor, he shook her hand. Are you a pro?
More a stubborn enthusiast, she laughed. I fall a lot but always get back up. And you?
Just a beginner, chasing a dream, he said, watching skiers glide past. You know, there are things we keep putting off, thinking someday. Then you realise, if not now, maybe never.
A philosopher, she teased, tilting her head. I like people who think about life.
And I like people who can fall and rise again, he replied. Want to tackle the slope together? I promise an elegant tumble.
Deal, Anna giggled, her laughter echoing over the snow. First to the café at the base buys mulled wine!
She shot down the hill, and he followed, his heart light, finally feeling wholly himself. Sometimes you must lose something precious to discover the pricelessyour own self.
