We fell madly in love back when we were university students. Money was a distant dream, so much so that my fiancé picked wild daisies from a sun-drenched meadow instead of buying a bridal bouquet. Somehow, the simple posy felt enchanted, more beautiful than any array from a flower shop window.
I was already pregnant when we wed in an old stone chapel shrouded in mist. After the ceremony, we moved into my mothers snug terrace house in Manchester. While I tried to finish my degree, Mum became our anchor. Life felt oddly serene at firstmy husband and I would stroll hand in hand through the winding parks, our son scampering before us, laughter echoing around. He was attentive, waking at dawn to swap sleepy smiles as the sun tiptoed through the curtains, ever patient with our little boy.
My husband tried chasing money with frantic urgency, as if he were late for a train only he could see. He worked as a loader at a bustling warehouse near the canal for nearly four years, lugging crates under foggy skies and the smell of rain. Then, he announced hed open his own greengrocers. In some surreal twist, the business blossomed. Suddenly, we had a new-build house on the edge of town, and a shiny car with leather seats that smelt of summer. We indulged in every whim, and he told me to leave my job, to mind the home instead. I agreed, almost sleepwalking through the decision.
Years tumbled by. Our son graduated from the London School of Economics, scholarly and proud. My husband gave him the ledger and told him, Keep our books in order. The grocers continued to thriveuntil one afternoon, our son came to me with trembling hands, bearing news that shimmered and warped: Dads had an affair.
Suddenly, time felt gelatinous, every choice sticky and strange: seek a divorce, or pretend none of it was real, like something glimpsed in a dream upon waking. I chose silence, hoping my husband would grow weary of shadows. Two months slipped by in limbo fog. Then, he confessed himself, words twisting like smoke: the woman was pregnant with his child. He told me he wanted both worldscomfort and familiarity with me, a new life with her. He promised to support usfor the sake of what wed built, for our sons future, for reasons that dissolved as soon as they were spoken, replaced by coins, by pounds sterling hed press into my hand.
I often feel lost, like Im wandering through endless English gardens with no gate out. In the distance flickers the memory of a wild bouquet, clutched tightly and shining with morning dew. There is always the echo of that strange beginning, and I am left searching for my place, adrift in the surreal sprawl of it all.
