A Wedding Without the Groom

Emma stood before the mirror in her white dress, scarcely believing how things had unfolded. The gown fitted as if tailored for her; Mum had spent three weeks perfecting every fold and bead. Now, its beauty hung on her like a funeral shroud.
“Em, ready?” Auntie Glenda, Mum’s best friend, poked her head in. “Guests are arriving, the cars are here.”
“Ready,” Emma lied, adjusting her veil. “Auntie Glenda, couldn’t we just cancel? It feels all wrong…”
“Goodness, child, what are you saying!” Glenda clapped her hands. “Your mother poured her heart, not to mention a small fortune, into this! The guests are here, the food’s out. And that Daniel…” Glenda shook her head. “Made his bed. No call disappearing at the eleventh hour!”
Mum entered, eyes rimmed red from tears but her expression resolute.
“Right, Em! Enough fretting!” she declared firmly. “I won’t let that numbskull ruin our celebration. We’re having this wedding! Let Manchester see what a stunner my daughter is!”
“Mum, but it’s ridiculous! A wedding with no groom! What will people say?”
“Say?” Mum approached, fixing Emma’s earrings. “They’ll say Valerie Walters is brilliant! That she didn’t sit home crying but proved her daughter deserves far better! That’s what!”
Emma sighed. Mum was in top form – once her mind was set, persuasion was futile. Her resolve had hardened last night when Daniel phoned, declaring he wasn’t ready for married life.
“Mum, imagine the humiliation!” Emma tried again.
“Humiliation is a woman waiting a lifetime for an unworthy man! We’ll show we thrive without him!” Mum turned towards the door. “Enough chat. We’re going!”
About forty guests filled the hall – relatives, neighbours, Mum’s colleagues. They murmured, casting sympathetic glances. Emma felt like she’d stepped into an absurdist play.
“Oh, Emma, you look gorgeous!” squealed her cousin Chloe. “But where is… I mean… how are you?”
“As you see,” Emma replied stiffly.
Mum climbed onto the small dais meant for the band and tapped her glass with a spoon.
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” she announced. “Today is special. My daughter Emma isn’t marrying a man… she’s marrying her new life! Freedom from the undeserving! Her right to happiness!”
Silence fell. Someone coughed awkwardly.
“Val, have you gone stark raving mad?” Mum’s sister Nina whispered.
“Quite the opposite! Found my senses!” Mum retorted. “Emma, up here!”
Reluctantly, Emma joined her mum, who put an arm around her shoulders.
“Here she is! My beauty! Clever, kind, talented! And that… that Daniel, he wasn’t good enough! Let everyone know – we’re not weeping, we’re celebrating!”
“Mum, please stop,” Emma hissed.
“I won’t!” Mum raised her glass. “To my daughter! For realising early who isn’t worth her time!”
Guests hesitantly raised their glasses. Some muttered “To Emma,” others took a silent sip.
“Now, tuck in everyone!” Mum commanded. “Let’s be merry!”
Emma sat at the head table. Beside her stood an empty, ribbon-decked chair – the groom’s seat. It looked pitiful.
“Pet, maybe move that chair?” suggested Aunt Glenda.
“Absolutely not!” Mum snapped. “Let everyone see who’s missing! Let them draw their own conclusions!”
Salads were served. Guests ate quietly, exchanging meaningless pleasantries. The tension was palpable.
“Why so glum?” Mum stood up. “Emma, tell everyone why you and Daniel argued!”
“Mum, don’t!” Emma pleaded.
“We must!” Valerie insisted. “Let them know the truth!”
Emma looked around the hall at the curious, sympathetic faces. Something inside her shifted.
“Alright,” she said, standing. “I’ll tell you. Daniel phoned yesterday and changed his mind. Said he wasn’t ready for responsibility, needed his own life. After three years together! Three years I waited for a proposal, planned our life, dreamed of children!”
Silence deepened.
“And you know what?” Emma continued, anger lending her strength. “Mum’s right! We’re done waiting for men to deign to make us happy! I *am* happy! Without Daniel, without any man who doesn’t appreciate what he has!”
“Spot on, love!” Mum joined in. “We women are our own masters!”
“I left my Victor last year,” neighbour Auntie Carol piped up. “Fed up with his moods. Peace now!”
“Quite right!” another woman agreed. “My Steven thought I’d fall apart without him. I sold the flat, bought a cottage in Chester, sell my veggies. Living better now!”
Gradually, women shared their stories – divorces, learning independence. The men stayed quiet, occasionally exchanging glances.
“Remember, Val,” a distant aunt chimed, “how your mother warned against marrying Emma’s dad? Said he wasn’t right?”
“I remember,” Mum nodded. “She knew. Left when Emma was five. Said he was too young, married too soon.”
“It’s a broken record!” another aunt exclaimed. “Too young! Who’s left holding the baby? Us!”
The conversation took flight. Women swapped tales; men mumbled excuses or stayed silent. Emma sat in white satin, feeling a quiet transformation within.
“You know,” she said as talk subsided, “it’s true. Enough waiting for princes! I work, I earn, I’ve got a flat. Why hang about for some bloke who bolts at the last second?”
“Exactly!” Mum’s friend’s younger sister agreed. “I’m raising my lad alone, doing fine. Waited years for his dad to come round. He married someone else!”
“My pal started Uni at forty!” added another guest. “Always wanted to study psychology, her husband forbade it. The moment she divorced – enrolled!”
Mum put some music on.
“Right, enough moping!” she declared. “Time to dance! Emma, you lead!”
“Mum, I’m in my *wedding dress*!”
“So? Your dress, your rules!”
Emma stood, making tentative steps. Gradually, other women joined. Men remained at the tables, some tapping their feet.
“Emma, remember school discos?” classmate Hannah bounded over. “You always moved the best!”
“I remember,” Emma smiled. “Thought life was ahead, all like a film!”
“Isn’t it?” Hannah asked seriously. “Your life *is* ahead! You’re young, beautiful, clever. Daniel’s loss, not yours!”
Dancing continued. Guests loosened up, laughed, joked. Toasts were made to the bride, to strong women. The atmosphere shifted – not sombre, but festive.
“Emma, you look lovely!” neighbour Auntie Sylvia smiled. “That dress! Shame it’ll sit in a box.”
“Why must it?” Emma asked. “I’ll wear it again! To Uni graduation, a big birthday, just for fun!”
“Bravo!” Mum cheered. “A beautiful dress should be adored, not mothballed!”
By evening’s end, guests proposed regular ‘weddings’ – celebrations of female independence.
“Listen, let’s start a group!” suggested Mum’s colleague. “Meet up, support each other!”
“Capital idea!” Mum agreed. “We’ll call it… something lovely!”
“Free Birds!” someone yelled.
“Splendidly Stubborn!” offered another.
Laughter filled the room.
As guests left, women offered Emma encouragement. Men shook her hand, a few apologising on behalf of their gender.
“Emma,” Mum’s brother, Uncle William, said, “you showed real grit today. Daniel’s a fool.”
Alone in the kitchen, Emma, still in her dress, sipped tea with cake.
“So, sweet
And in the years that followed, Emily discovered that the truest vows are those one makes to honour oneself first.