**Diary Entry – 12th March**
When Emily first met William, she thought she’d finally found the one—the kind of man she could build a proper, lasting future with. He wasn’t just handsome and clever; he made it clear from the start that he wanted something serious. They grew close quickly, and within months, they were sharing a flat in Manchester, telling themselves they’d just *see how it went*. But it went smoothly, as if it was always meant to be.
Daily life didn’t dull their affection. They compromised, looked after each other, cooked meals together, watched old films, and took evening walks through the city, making plans for weekends, summers, life itself. Their mates had long joked they were practically married already. Everyone was just waiting for the next step—but it never came.
The first year, Emily didn’t push. She trusted William would propose when he was ready. But when the second and third years passed with no change, she grew uneasy. It stung when her friends started posting photos of registry offices with captions like *”Officially a family!”* while she didn’t even have a ring—or so much as a conversation about one.
Then came the blow: William’s mum fell seriously ill. Overnight, life revolved around hospital visits, tests, and pharmacy runs. Wedding talk vanished—and Emily understood. She stood by him, never pressing. When his mum recovered, she breathed a sigh of relief: surely now, they could look ahead again. But William stayed stuck in *”not the right time”* mode, as if marriage had slipped his mind entirely.
Emily waited. And then she realised—enough. She didn’t want to just be the convenient girlfriend. She wanted to be his wife, to build a home, have children, to *know* where she stood. Even getting a mortgage felt reckless when you weren’t legally anything to each other. So she took charge.
She bought the ring herself. Booked their favourite booth at the pub. Picked the date—not random, but the anniversary of the first time they’d said *”I love you.”* When William saw the little box, he froze, stammering about how he’d *meant* to propose, just hadn’t found the right moment. But he said yes. No grand speech, no tears—just yes.
Her girlfriends were stunned. Some admired her nerve; others thought she’d made a fool of herself. But Emily just felt lighter. At least now, things were clear.
She didn’t wait for someone else to decide her future. She registered the wedding online, picked the date, hunted for a dress, booked the venue, and arranged the photographer. William helped—without fireworks, but he did his part: tasting menus, hiring a car, choosing bands. Life moved forward.
Sometimes she catches her friends’ looks. The married ones eye her with pity—*”Hope she knows what she’s doing.”* The single ones? Pure envy that she *dared*. But Emily doesn’t care. She’s tired of limbo. She deserves happiness. She loves him—and she *believes* in that love.
Maybe it wasn’t textbook. Maybe some will say, *”A woman shouldn’t propose.”* But perhaps if more women stopped waiting around, more happy families might exist.
Did she do the right thing? Probably. Was it ridiculous? No. It was the act of a grown woman brave enough to shape her own fate.
**Lesson learned:** Life doesn’t hand you what you want—sometimes, you have to reach out and take it.
