“So, a marriage certificate is still stronger than just living together, eh?” The guys from work used to tease Nadia.
“Im not going to the thirty-year reunionIll just get depressed. Let the ones who go every year handle it. They dont even notice how much theyve changed,” Nadia snapped into her phone when her only friend, Margaret, called.
“Whats got you so scared? You looked fine when we met five years ago. Have you put on weight or something?” Margaret sounded genuinely puzzled.
“Its not about that! I just dont want to go, Rita, drop it!”
Nadia was about to hang up, hoping Margaret would take the hint and move on to the next name on her list. But this time, her friend wouldnt let it go.
“Nadia, our groups already thinning out.”
“What, someone passed away?” Nadia couldnt help but shudder. She didnt feel *that* oldsurely their classmates werent dropping like flies yet.
“No, nothing like that. Some just moved abroad. But Andy Bush diedtwenty-five years ago, remember? I told you.”
“Dont be difficult. Its our whole yearall four groupsbut only thirty people are coming. You finally got your son married, didnt you? Come on, have a little fun.”
Margaret kept talking, but Nadias mind wandered back to Andy Bush. Hed always had dark circles under his eyes, a heavy gaze, and the lads in their group had written him off as weak.
Turned out, Andy just had a weak heart. He was brilliant, dreamed of building a cable-stayed bridge in his hometownbut never got the chance. And what had *she* done with her life?
Fallen for Ian, a foreman on the construction site where she worked after graduation. He was on rotation, gone half the time, but hed called her his wife in front of everyone. Said civil partnerships were the *real* proof of love. That marriage certificates didnt matter if two people truly loved each other
Then she found out she was pregnantright when Ian didnt show up for his shift. Turned out he had three kids and a sick wife at home. He quit without a word, left her hanging.
Nadia couldnt bring herself to demand anything from a man with three children and an ill wife. So she left the job too, before anyone noticed. One of the lads joked on her last day
*”So, a marriage certificate *is* stronger than just living together?”*
She didnt care anymore. A neighbour from her block got her a job at a corner shop nearby. They agreed shed work two days a week, even after the baby came.
Her mother reluctantly agreed to look after little Tom, though not without a lecture
*”I raised you better than this! I slaved to put you through uni, and now youve thrown it all away!”*
*”Like mother, like daughterwhat did you expect?”* Nadia shot back, instantly regretting it.
They hugged and cried after, but what was the point? Where did she go from here?
So when Margaret called about the five-year reunion, Nadia didnt go. What would she talk about? Family? Careers? Theyd show off photos while she scrubbed floors in three different placesschool, nursery, their own block of flats. What did she have to say to them?
Or rather, what did they have to say to *her*?
But Tom was her one joy. Her mother moved to the countryside when he started nursery, claiming the city air didnt agree with her.
Then, against all odds, luck finally found Nadia. Just as Tom started school, she landed a part-time engineering jobher actual degree. She managed everything herself now, even picking Tom up after his after-school club.
A colleague tried to flirt with her once, but she shut it down. Tom didnt need some strange bloke in their home.
By the time Tom was older, shed worked her way up to a full-time position. But she still felt lesser. Dressed plainly, never dyed her hairlet the grays show after forty.
She didnt *deserve* to be happy. Not with her past. Not when shed nearly taken a father from three kids.
Tom, though, grew up grateful. He spent summers helping his gran and great-aunt in the villageplanting potatoes, chopping firewood, stacking logs. Even her mother admitted
*”Youre lucky, Nadia. Such a good boy youve raised.”*
So why did she need some reunion?
All these thoughts raced through her head in seconds as Margaret pressed:
“You coming or not? The café opposite the old halls, next Friday at three. Just show upIll have no one to talk to otherwise.”
Margarets voice cracked, and before she knew it, Nadia agreed.
Hanging up, she immediately regretted it. She checked the mirror, grabbed her phone to call backbut the line was busy.
Late that evening, she pulled out the blue dress Tom and his wife, Natasha, had bought for their wedding. Theyd dragged her shopping, made her try on everything, and this was the one even *she* liked. Natasha took her to a salon toohair coloured, styled.
That was a year ago. Now Tom and Natasha lived happily on their own.
Nadine styled her hair, put on the dress, even swiped on lipstickthen wiped it off. *Too bold.*
The café was packed. Margaret spotted her instantly
*”Nadine, you look *stunning!*”*
Margaret had put on weight, but it suited her. They chatted, but soon Margaret was pulled away. Nadia sipped juice, listening to the old student playlist.
*”May I have this dance?”*
She looked upAlex from the parallel group. Married in third yearshed fancied him back then.
*”Youre *glowing,* Nadia. I didnt recognise anyone else.”*
They danced in silence. Later, walking her home, he admitted
*”Ive been divorced for years. If youve got someone waiting, just sayotherwise, Ill see you again?”*
She didnt.
Natasha helped pick out her wedding dress, whispering
*”Youre *beautiful,* Nadia. Happiness isnt just for the young.”*
At the reception, she looked at Alex and finally let herself believe it.
Nadine forgave herself. And at last, she let herself be happy.
