**Diary Entry – June 12th**
He wasn’t the prince I thought he’d be…
I met Ethan just after he’d returned from his military service. He looked like he’d stepped straight off the cover of a magazine—tall, athletic, with mesmerising green eyes and dark curly hair. Next to him, I felt plain, even though I was pretty enough—blonde hair, a slim figure, a sweet smile. I couldn’t believe my luck when, out of our whole group, he chose me.
*“What on earth does he see in you?”* my friends whispered. *“Men like that don’t stay for long. He’ll have his fun and be gone before you know it.”*
But I just smiled—I believed in what we had. We went to the cinema, danced, met up with friends. Ethan wasn’t the sort to shower me with compliments, but his touch sent my head spinning. The first time I took him home, my mother—Margaret—frowned. Later, when we were alone, she said quietly:
*“A handsome husband is everyone’s husband, love. Men like that rarely stay faithful. Don’t rush into marriage—test him first. He’s too much like a shop window display.”*
I was hurt. I trusted Ethan’s feelings and refused to listen to her doubts. But her words planted a tiny seed of unease in me.
Slowly, Ethan changed. First, it was the gym, then the swimming pool, then new crowds. I joined in, desperate to keep up, but I felt awkward next to the toned, glamorous girls he started bringing around. He’d glance at them with interest, while I left early, hiding my tears.
*“You’re such a weakling,”* he scoffed once when I caught a cold after swimming. *“Stick to your books.”*
His words stung, and I remembered Mum’s warning. I could feel him slipping away. More often, he’d disappear—no calls, no explanations. And then one day, he was just… gone. No answer to my messages.
*“Still nothing?”* Mum asked.
*“No…”* I whispered, turning away.
*“Up you get then!”* she ordered. *“To the hairdresser’s—new hair, new start. Then we’ll pick fabric for a dress. You’ve got the hands for it.”*
We bought material, I sketched designs, forcing myself to move on. Rumours about Ethan’s new girls reached me, but I pushed through. And when I finally showed up at the dance hall—hair done, figure slim, glowing—people noticed.
One man, Oliver—quiet, unassuming—started courting me. Not a stunner, but his eyes never left mine. Warm. Honest. Within a month, he proposed.
*“Now that’s a proper man!”* Mum said. *“Falls in love, puts a ring on it. And you?”*
*“I’ll marry him,”* I said softly.
*“Do you love him?”*
*“How couldn’t I? He’s kind, hardworking, loyal. He wants me—just me.”*
Our wedding was small, full of warmth. We started from scratch—our first chair, our first plate. A year later, our daughter arrived; three years after that, our son. A family. Love. Happiness.
I don’t think about Ethan anymore. Though sometimes, in passing, I hear he left his wife, ran off with a mistress, still playing the field. I just smile.
*“What was he to me? A silly chapter. Let him be happy—if he can.”*
At home, my children wait. My husband. And Mum—wise, tender, the one who saved me from real heartbreak. The reason I found my quiet, steady joy.
Mum… stay with me a little longer. Without you, the light dims.
