**A Loveless Marriage**
James married Emma out of spite—to prove to his true love that her betrayal hadn’t broken him. He and Charlotte had been together nearly three years. His love for her had driven him mad; he would have laid the world at her feet just to see her smile. He dreamed of marriage, but Charlotte cooled his passion. “Why rush?” she’d say. “I haven’t even finished uni yet, and your business is barely staying afloat. No proper car, no home of our own. Live with your sister in that tiny flat? No thanks—I won’t share a kitchen with Lucy, even if she is my friend.”
Her words stung, but James knew they held truth. He and Lucy squeezed into their parents’ old flat in Manchester, and the family business, inherited after their parents’ death, was a constant struggle. He’d dropped out of university to keep it running. They’d sold the countryside cottage together—business came first. Within six months, debts piled up. Both were still students: him in his final year, Lucy in her second. The sale money cleared debts, restocked the shop, and left a small buffer. But Charlotte lived for the moment, unwilling to wait. Her parents funded her carefree life, while James, suddenly the head of his family, saw the future differently. He believed things would improve—there’d be a house, a car.
Then disaster struck. James waited for Charlotte outside the cinema, as agreed over the phone. She’d insisted he not pick her up, which was odd—she hated buses. He scanned the crowd, only for her to pull up in a sleek Range Rover. “Sorry, we’re done. I’m getting married,” she blurted, shoving a book into his hands before speeding off. James stood frozen. What could’ve changed in two days—his brief business trip?
Lucy took one look at him and understood. “You found out?” He nodded. “She’s landed some wealthy bloke. Wedding’s on the 28th. Asked me to be a bridesmaid—I refused. Disgusting! She was stringing you along.” Lucy burst into angry tears. James hugged her. “Let her have what she wants. We’ll have better.”
He locked himself in his room for a day. Lucy knocked. “At least eat. I made pancakes.” By evening, he emerged, eyes burning. “Get ready.” “What’s your plan?” “I’m marrying the first woman who says yes.” Lucy pleaded, “You can’t—you’ll ruin lives!” But he was adamant. “Come or don’t. I’m going.”
The city park buzzed with people. One woman laughed at his proposal, another recoiled, but the third met his gaze and said, “Yes.” “What’s your name, love?” “Emma,” she replied. James dragged her and Lucy to a café to celebrate their “engagement.” The table simmered with tension—Lucy silent, James seething. He decided: his wedding would be on Charlotte’s day.
“Is there a reason you proposed to a stranger?” Emma asked. “If it’s a whim, I’ll leave—no hard feelings.” “No. You gave your word. Tomorrow, we file the paperwork, then meet your parents,” he declared, adding with a wink, “And call me James.”
They spent the next month together, learning each other. “Why?” Emma asked once. “Some secrets are best kept,” he deflected. “Why did *you* say yes?” “Felt like a princess handed to a stranger. Fairy tales promise happy endings. Wanted to test it.”
Truth was, Emma had loved and lost, her heart—and modest savings—shattered. It taught her to read people. She dismissed flatterers instantly. She wasn’t hunting for “the one,” but she wanted someone sharp and decisive. In James, she saw strength. Had he been with mates instead of Lucy, she’d have walked away.
“Which princess? Sleeping Beauty?” James mused. “Kiss me, you’ll see,” she teased. But kisses never came. James planned the wedding; Emma simply chose from his options. He even bought her dress, insisting, “You’ll be the most beautiful.”
At the registry office, they bumped into Charlotte and her fiancé. James forced a grin. “Congratulations,” he said, pecking her cheek. “Be happy with your tycoon.” “Don’t make a scene,” Charlotte snapped, eyeing Emma—tall, poised, regal. Jealousy gnawed at her. Had she bet wrong?
“All good?” James muttered to Emma. “You can still back out,” she whispered. “No. We finish this,” he said. Yet, as he met his wife’s sad eyes, guilt struck. “I’ll make you happy,” he vowed, almost believing it.
Life settled. Lucy and Emma became close, tempering each other—Lucy’s fire softened by Emma’s calm. An economist by instinct, Emma streamlined the business. Within a year, they opened a second shop, then branched into renovations. Profits tripled. Emma had a knack for ideas James thought were his own.
But his heart ached. The fire he’d felt with Charlotte was gone. Everything was steady… dull. “Just routine,” he told himself. “I don’t love her.”
Emma expanded the business—custom homes. Their first project: a mansion for themselves. Success only sharpened James’ bitterness. “If Charlotte had waited…” The thought nagged. Emma saw him fading. She tried to win his love, but hearts can’t be forced. “Not all fairy tales come true,” she thought, but refused to quit—her pride wouldn’t let her.
Lucy noticed too. “You’ll lose more than you gain,” she warned, catching him on Charlotte’s social media. “Shut it!” he snapped. “Idiot! Emma *loves* you, and you’re playing games!” Lucy yelled. Angry, he cut her off, but the pull grew. He messaged Charlotte.
She complained—her husband had thrown her out. Dropped out of uni, jobless, stuck in a rented room in Birmingham. James wavered. Emma was away, visiting a sick aunt in the countryside. Temptation won. He arranged to meet.
Flying to Birmingham, he imagined reconciliation. Reality hit hard. “Look at you!” Charlotte slurred, reeking of cheap perfume and stale beer. Her garish makeup and tight skirt were a far cry from the woman he’d loved. “People are staring,” he muttered, pushing her off. “Who cares!” She laughed, chugging lager. “Lend me cash, I’ll make it worth your while.” He stood abruptly. “Work calls.” “See you again?” she whined. “Doubt it,” he said, tossing her money before leaving.
Driving home, he cursed himself. “Lucy was right. What was I thinking?” Yet clarity came: he’d never called Emma “Em.” She was his closest friend, his rock. He pulled over, replaying their marriage—her green eyes, warm smile, fingers in his hair. “I promised her happiness,” he whispered.
Turning the car around, he raced to her aunt’s house. “A week without you was too long. I barely lasted two days,” he admitted as she ran out. “Madman,” she cried, smiling. “Em, my love,” he murmured. Their hearts beat in sync, full at last.
*Sometimes, revenge blinds us to what’s real. And sometimes, love grows quietly—until we’re brave enough to see it.*
