In Sorrow and in Joy
“Harry, look at this dress I bought! Do you like it?” Harry glanced up and smiled.
“Turn around, let me see. It’s gorgeous. You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured tenderly.
“I fell in love with it the moment I saw it! Searched the whole shop—thought I’d leave empty-handed. Then, at the very last minute, there it was! Perfect for Emily’s birthday party this summer.”
“No, don’t wear it,” Harry said, suddenly serious.
“Why not?” Lillian’s face fell.
“Because you’ll outshine the birthday girl. And that just wouldn’t be fair.”
Lillian laughed, and Harry thought how lovely his wife’s laughter was.
“Oh, stop it!”
She stepped toward the mirror, admiring herself again. The sky-blue dress truly suited her, making her grey eyes shine with something almost sapphire.
Harry watched her, his heart growing heavier. He still hadn’t told her. Didn’t know how. He had hoped—prayed—things would turn around.
“When are we supposed to go on holiday again?” Lillian asked, catching his eye in the reflection.
“September,” he answered, his voice tight.
“September… I’ll need to get swimsuits. Only have two right now—not enough.”
Harry closed his eyes. No, he couldn’t keep hiding the truth. He had wanted to spare her, but that wouldn’t work anymore. He had to tell her.
“Lily, sit down, love. Please.”
She turned, still smiling—until she saw his expression. Then the smile faded.
“What’s wrong, Harry?” she asked, sitting beside him.
“There’s… bad news.”
“Oh God, don’t drag it out. What happened? Is everyone all right? Your mum—?”
“Everyone’s fine,” he assured her quickly, taking her hands in his. “It’s… the company. It’s gone under.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending.
They had married five years ago. Harry was ten years older, but Lillian had been head over heels, never caring about the gap. Back then, his business was just taking off—no one could accuse her of marrying for money. And anyone who knew them saw how deeply they loved each other.
Some marriages are made in heaven. Theirs was one. They fit together like two halves of a whole—no lies, no deceit, just unwavering devotion.
After the wedding, Harry’s business soared. The money rolled in. They upgraded from their cramped flat to a proper house, bought nice cars, holidayed abroad. Life had been good, and then it had only gotten better.
Harry had always believed a man should provide. His wife could work, sure, but her income wasn’t meant to be the backbone of their life. He never even knew how much she earned—she spent it on herself: salons, shopping, little luxuries. Sometimes she’d pick up groceries or pay small bills, but all by choice. The weight of their livelihood rested squarely on his shoulders. That was how he wanted it.
Now he had to admit failure. His weakness.
If Lillian left him after this—if she decided she’d had enough—he’d understand. He had failed her.
“How long has this been going on?” she asked softly.
“Months. Kept thinking I’d turn it around, but no. The company filed for bankruptcy today. I’m so sorry.”
Harry couldn’t meet her eyes. The shame burned.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, hurt creeping into her voice.
“Didn’t want to drag you into it. Thought I could fix it myself.”
“Harry!” she scolded. “We’re a family. *In sorrow and in joy*, remember? Did you really think I’d only love you in the good times?”
“Just didn’t want to burden you,” he sighed.
She smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “We’ll manage. What’s the plan now?”
“Don’t know,” he admitted. “Need to sort out our finances, see what’s left. I’ll find work—anything. Courier, labourer, cabbie. Won’t sit around on your dime.”
Lillian was quiet, lost in thought. Then she stood.
“Right, I’ll return the dress.”
“Absolutely not!” Harry shot up. “It looks perfect on you. You love it.”
“I’ll manage,” she said gently. “Got plenty of dresses. And you *did* say I shouldn’t outshine Emily.”
Harry’s chest ached as he managed a smile.
“It’s half a month’s groceries,” she added. “That’s more important now. When things get better, I’ll buy another—something even nicer.”
That evening, they worked out their budget. With some tightening and Lillian’s salary, they’d survive six months.
“Worst case, we sell one of the cars,” she suggested.
“Starting tomorrow, I’ll look for work,” Harry vowed. “If nothing decent comes up, I’ll take anything. But I won’t live off you.”
Lillian was silent, calculating something in her head.
“Harry… You mentioned starting something new?”
“Yeah, got ideas. But no funds. And… what if I fail again?”
She didn’t answer.
That night, she barely slept. Harry had always been a go-getter—a born entrepreneur. If he let fear win now, he’d spend the rest of his life delivering parcels. That wasn’t him. He *needed* to build, to create.
It wasn’t just about money. He had to do work that fulfilled him.
The next morning, she asked for details. His idea was solid, she decided—it could work.
“How much do you need to start?”
The sum he named wasn’t small.
“Plus, no profit for months. Just covering costs at first,” he admitted glumly.
She exhaled. “Let’s sell both cars. That should be enough.”
“No. You can’t commute without one—your office is too far.”
Lillian smiled.
“Harry, when I was little, I went to music school. Other side of town. Three times a week, I’d take the bus—half an hour—then switch to a tram for another forty minutes. Never minded. No other choice. And I won’t fall apart now taking the bus to work. It’s only thirty minutes.”
“Plus a twenty-minute walk to the stop,” he muttered.
“I’ve put on five pounds this winter. Need to lose them anyway. If you believe in this—do it.”
“And if it fails?” His voice was small.
“Then we try something else. I believe in you.”
When her girlfriends heard, they called her a fool.
“*You’re* supporting *him*? He should be working! You’ll slave away while he dreams up schemes? He already wrecked one business—now you’re handing him another?” one scoffed.
“And selling your cars? No way I’d give up mine. *He* ruined himself—let *him* figure it out,” another snapped.
Lillian just smiled.
“Girls, I love my husband. I’ll stand by him no matter what. And I trust him—as a man, as a businessman. Listening to you, marriage is just endless bliss. Pity your husbands—they’ll never have someone to truly rely on.”
Her friends bristled, waiting smugly for her life to crumble.
It didn’t.
Whether it was her faith or fate, Harry flourished. Within a year, they were back on their feet—then thriving. Two new cars, nicer than before.
One afternoon, walking to lunch near his office, Harry spotted a shop window.
There it was—that same blue dress.
Without hesitation, he bought it.
That evening, he presented it to Lillian.
“Seriously? *That* dress?” she gasped, delighted. Honestly, she’d forgotten all about it—too much had happened since.
“You deserve the best,” Harry said softly. “Wear it to Emily’s birthday. Let *everyone* see I married the most wonderful woman alive.”
