June 30
Tonight the house feels colder than ever. I slipped the ivory wedding gown from the back of the wardrobe and ran my fingers over the soft silk, feeling the sting of tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. Three months after the grand ceremony Im back at Mums doorstep, emptyhanded, without a husband, without a smile, and with a shattered belief in happiness.
Mum, can I move back in with you? I asked, voice trembling, as I stood in the hallway clutching two suitcases.
Mum, Margaret Turner, wrapped her arms around me without a word and helped with the bags. The questions could wait. She just knew something invaluable in my life had snapped.
Now that Im back at work, Mum cant help but wander through the bitter memories. It all began so beautifully.
I met James at the office Christmas party. My friend, fearing Id spend the night alone, coaxed me to go. Id been hesitating, but eventually gave in.
He was tall, darkhaired, with warm brown eyes that caught mine instantly. He courted me with flowers, candlelit dinners, and spontaneous weekend trips. I was swept away. Six months later he got down on one knee in the middle of a bustling restaurant, the whole room hanging on his words.
Emily, will you be my wife? he asked, sliding a velvet box across the table.
My cheeks flushed. I hadnt expected a proposal, though sometimes I let myself dream about it. The silence stretched, and I whispered, Yes.
The wedding planning erupted into a whirlwind. James insisted on a lavish affair.
My love, a wedding comes only once, he urged. I want everything perfect.
I would have preferred something modest, but I gave in to his wishes. He booked an expensive venue, invited countless colleagues and friends Id never met before.
I remember Mums cautious voice in the kitchen that night.
Sweetheart, are you sure youre not rushing? she asked gently.
Dont worry, Mum. Im twentyeight now. How long should I wait? James is thoughtful and caring. I cant imagine a better husband, I replied, feeling the bright optimism of a newly engaged woman.
Now I sit on the edge of the sofa, my eyes dimmed, wondering where it all went wrong.
James moved into my onebedroom flat right after the wedding. He claimed hed found a place, but now there was no point in spending extra money while my young wife already had a flat.
Darling, Ive started saving for our future home, he said, planting a kiss on my temple. Well endure this cramped space for a while, then buy something spacious.
I didnt want our marriage to start with money talks, so I agreed. Then I learned James had lost his job before we even exchanged vows.
Why didnt you tell me? I asked, shocked, after hearing it from a mutual acquaintance.
I didnt want to ruin the mood before the wedding, he shrugged. Im still looking, dont worry.
Weeks passed, yet James made no effort to find work. He rose late, spent most days at his laptop pretending to send out CVs, and spent evenings out with mates. I worked long hours in the accounts department, coming home exhausted, and all the household chores fell to me.
James, maybe you could pick up a temporary job while you search for something permanent? I suggested cautiously.
You expect me to become a delivery driver or a mover? he snapped. I have a degree and experience; I wont degrade myself.
One evening I got home early and saw his silhouette in the window. Going upstairs, I heard raised voices. I opened the door with my key and froze. A noisy crowd had taken over my tiny flatempty bottles, takeaway trays, thumping music.
Emily! We were just having a few drinks with the lads, James grinned, reaching for me.
The smell of alcohol filled the room. I glanced at the mess, the dishes piled up, and slipped into the bathroom, locking the door and sobbing. What had become of my life?
The next morning, after the guests had left and James was sound asleep, I discovered my gold earringsmy parents gift for my eighteenth birthdaymissing from the jewellery box. I woke him.
Where are my earrings? I demanded.
What earrings? he muttered halfasleep.
The golden ones that were in the box.
He winced, sat up, and said, Oh, those I borrowed them to get a quick loan from a jeweller I know, planning to buy them back straight away.
You pawned my earrings? I shouted.
I didnt sell them, I pledged them! We need the cash, Ill repay it soon, he snapped.
Wheres the money? I pressed.
We went to the pub after, he muttered, turning away.
I sank onto a chair, realizing my husband had squandered our savings and even my personal belongings to fund nights out, while I had been scrimping for a new sofa.
The problems snowballed. I later uncovered that James had hidden loans taken out before the wedding, and I was the one paying them. He kept finding excuses for his unemployment and began insinuating that I should work more.
James, this cant go on, I said one night. We need to talk seriously.
What about? he grumbled, not looking up from his phone.
My life. Im working from dawn till dusk, paying the rent, buying groceries, and you I faltered.
What do you want me to say? his tone turned threatening.
Youre not doing anything to improve our situation, I whispered finally.
He sprang up, flinging his phone aside. Do you think Im a servant for a few pence? Do you think I should grovel for you? Im a husband, not a slave!
After that argument the tension only grew. I started staying later at work just to avoid home. I kept replaying the mistake of rushing into marriage.
James grew irritable, snapping over the smallest things. One night, when I forgot his favourite orange juice, he exploded.
You never think about me! I asked for a simple juice, is that too much? he roared, pacing the room.
Im exhausted after work, Im sorry, I murmured, feeling a chill down my spine. Id never seen him so angry.
Everyone ignores my needs! he banged his fist on the table, making me flinch.
A call from his sister calmed him briefly; he smiled, picked up the phone, and stepped onto the balcony for fresh air.
Each day got worse. Money seemed to vanish faster. One night I checked the bank statement and saw a large sum withdrawn at a nightclub on the same night James claimed to be at a friends house.
Why are you watching me? he barked when I confronted him with the statement.
What money are you spending on? I asked softly.
It doesnt matter. Were a family, everythings shared! he retorted.
Something finally cracked inside me. I realised the James I fell for was only the persona he crafted during courtship. The real James was lazy, irresponsible, perhaps even dishonest.
The final straw was Mums heirloom ringa ruby set in a family gold band, kept in a tiny box. I intended to wear it for my aunts birthday, but the box was empty.
My heart stopped. I rushed to James.
Did you see Mums ring?
He avoided my gaze, muttering, I needed cash urgently. A mate was in trouble; I couldnt say no. Ill repay you, I promise.
I sank into a chair, the truth clear. No friend existed, no job search. He had been using me, draining my money, selling my things.
I want a divorce, I said, barely louder than a whisper.
His face hardened. You cant do that! Im your husband! We vowed to stay together in sorrow and joy!
Sorrow was plenty, I said bitterly. Joy never came.
Youll regret this! he threatened.
Fear clenched me. That night, while James was out with his friends, I packed the essentials and drove to my parents home. I broke down, telling Mum everything about the brief, disastrous marriage.
Mum, I should have listened when you warned me not to rush, I sobbed.
Mum stroked my hair, soothing, Itll be alright, love. Youll find happiness again, I promise.
A week later, when I mustered the courage to return for the rest of my belongings, the flat was in chaos. Appliances, jewellery, even some clothes were gone. James had taken everything sellable and vanished.
I collapsed onto the floor amidst the wreckage, a bitter laugh escaping me. My marriage lay in ruins, just like the apartment.
A month has passed. I filed for divorce; James never appeared at the hearing, rumored to have fled to another city. I now shoulder the debts he accrued, forged signatures and all.
Mum gently folded the wedding dress back into the wardrobe. Perhaps someday Ill don a white dress again, but with a man who truly deserves it. For now it will sit as a reminder of a mistake not to repeat.
That evening, after work, Mum brewed tea and said, You know, love is built over years, not just on a single day. Its with someone whos worthy.
I offered a faint smile, I get it now, Mum. Better to be alone than with someone who makes you miserable.
Each day I take tiny steps toward a new life. Ive taken an extra shift to pay off the debts faster, enrolled in a professional course, and on weekends I stroll through the park and meet old friends Id left behind.
While sorting through old photos, I found the wedding pictures. In one, I stood radiant in my white dress, bouquet in hand, James beaming beside me. I stared at it for a long moment, then ripped it apart.
It felt like tearing away not just the photograph but the illusion that happiness could be handed to me on a cake. True happiness must be built brick by brick, day by day, starting with oneself.
That night, for the first time in ages, I fell asleep with a light heart. I dont know what the future holds, but Im resolved never again to live by others expectations or make hasty choices. Ill have another chance to create a real, solid, happy familyone on my own terms.
For now, Im learning to be happy alone. Happiness isnt a stamp in a passport or a white dress; its a state of the soul, independent of marital status. Ill walk toward that peace one small, sure step at a time.
