Emma adjusted her dress carefully, her fingers lingering on the lace. The white gown, bought hastily on sale for a few quid, looked simpler than she’d hoped. The lace she’d chosen so carefully now seemed cheap under the dim light of her flat. “Doesn’t matter,” she thought, “As long as Liam likes it.” She sighed. This was the dress she’d wear to marry the man she’d fallen for at first sight—though if she were honest, he wasn’t exactly a knight in shining armour. More like a rugged rugby player with unruly blond hair, broad shoulders, and mischievous blue eyes.
Emma had always believed love would strike suddenly, like in the novels. Nothing less would do.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her back to reality. Of course—her mum again, still trying to talk her out of it.
“Emma, love, listen to me—listen to people who’ve lived a bit longer!” Her mother’s voice trembled, as it had for weeks. “A wedding a month after meeting? You barely know him!”
Emma rolled her eyes. “When it’s real, Mum, you just know. It’s like in films!”
“Films are fairy tales, love!” her mum shot back. “They never show what happens after ‘happily ever after.’ Work, bills, kids—do you even know what he does for a living? His plans?”
Emma faltered. She and Liam had never talked about that. Their days were spent lost in declarations of love.
“He does… something in logistics,” she mumbled. If her mum dug deeper, she’d have no answers.
Her dad took the phone. “Emma, how can you build a life with a stranger? You don’t even know where he works!”
“But Nan and Grandad did! They barely knew each other before marrying!”
“A fluke, love. One in a million.”
“Then I’ll be the one!”
Before they could argue further, Liam arrived—in a hastily bought navy suit, wrinkled and too big, the sleeves bunching at his wrists. In his hands, a bouquet of daisies, gathered from some roadside field, tied with a simple ribbon. To Emma, they were perfect.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, heart pounding, and stepped out—leaving doubts, warnings, and sense behind.
The registry office was quick, dull. An exhausted clerk recited vows while Liam fumbled with the ring. His relatives snapped photos; hers were absent, still angry at her stubbornness.
Afterward, they went to Liam’s flat—now hers—where his aunt Marge had laid out sandwiches, a sad bowl of coleslaw, and sliced tomatoes. His family congratulated them with resigned faces, as if at a funeral, not a wedding.
When they left, Liam spun her around the room. “Now we’re man and wife! Forever!”
But by evening, the circus began. Liam, bored after his family left, announced, “Wedding’s not over till my mates celebrate!” He vanished into the night, leaving Emma alone.
He returned at dawn, too drunk to stand, slurring apologies before collapsing into bed.
Morning brought his hangover and her crushing disappointment. She’d rushed into this. But admitting it? Never. Love fixed everything—didn’t it? She’d change him.
Life with Liam was chaos. Impulsive trips, wasted wages on gaming gear, shouting matches over unwashed dishes. Once, he splurged on an abstract painting—just splotches, meaningless. “It’s art!” he insisted. Emma thought of the broken washing machine they couldn’t afford to fix.
He complained about his boss, dreamed of starting a business—yet did nothing. Emma, working at a salon, kept their flat tidy, their meals warm, the illusion alive. But each talk about responsibility ended the same: “You’re such a nag!”
Their first anniversary, she prepared a candlelit dinner, hoping he’d remember. He staggered in late—drunk, with a petite, frightened woman beside him.
“Emma, this is Holly. She’s… pregnant.”
The world tilted.
“It just happened,” Liam slurred. “She’s staying with us. I’ll fix it!”
Emma walked past him—out the door, onto a bus, to her nan’s cottage.
Nan listened as Emma sobbed. “I thought love would win. But he never loved me.”
Nan sighed. “Love isn’t always what we think. You never asked how your grandad and I lasted so young, did you?”
Emma frowned.
“We married because it was time. I loved another man—one I couldn’t have. Your grandad knew… and stayed.”
Emma reeled. Her perfect example—a lie?
“I’m telling you this,” Nan said softly, “so you don’t waste years pretending. If it’s broken, walk away.”
The next morning, Emma packed a bag. “I’m leaving.”
Liam blinked. “Where?”
“From you.”
At her parents’, there were no “I told you so’s.” Just quiet relief.
Months later, she bumped into an old schoolmate, Daniel. They married slowly, without the fireworks or the foolishness. He loved her as she was.
Liam married Holly. It failed, too. He drank, spent wildly, lost his job. Holly left, later calling Emma to apologise.
“I thought I could change him,” Holly admitted.
Emma smiled sadly. “We all did.”
Life’s lesson? Love isn’t a whirlwind—it’s the quiet mornings after. And no one should stay where they’re only convenient.
