Today I stood before the mirror in my white dress, utterly bewildered by how things had unfolded. The dress fit perfectly – Mum spent three weeks adjusting every fold, every bead. Now, that beauty hung on me like a shroud.
“Aunt Gladys, Mum’s friend, peeked in. “Hannah, love, ready? Guests are gathering, the cars are here.”
“Ready,” I lied, adjusting my veil. “Aunt Glad, couldn’t we still cancel? This just feels all wrong…”
“What are you saying, dear!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “Your mum’s poured her energy into this, spent a small fortune! Guests are here, the table’s set. And that James of yours…” Aunt Gladys shook her head. “It’s his own fault! Shouldn’t have cleared off at the last minute!”
Mum entered, eyes red from crying but expression steely.
“Enough, Hannah! No more moping!” she declared firmly. “I won’t let that numbskull ruin our day. The wedding goes on! Let the whole town see what a beauty my daughter is!”
“Mum, but it’s ridiculous! A wedding with no groom? What will people say?”
“What *will* they say?” Mum came closer, fixing my earrings. “They’ll say Victoria Bennett is a trouper! That she didn’t sit home crying, but showed everyone her daughter deserves better! That’s what!”
I sighed. Mum was on form – once she set her mind, it was impossible to change. She’d decided last night itself, when James rang announcing he wasn’t ready for family life.
“Mum, imagine the humiliation!”
“Humiliation is a girl waiting forever for an unworthy man! We’ll show we thrive without him!” Mum turned to the door. “Right, chat over. Let’s go!”
About forty people crammed the church hall. Relatives, neighbours, Mum’s work colleagues. They murmured amongst themselves, casting sympathetic glances. I felt trapped in a stage play of the absurd.
“Oh, Hannah, you look beautiful!” my cousin Eleanor bounded over. “But where… I mean… how are things?”
“Just fine,” I replied flatly.
Mum climbed onto the small dais where musicians usually played and tapped a spoon against a glass.
“My dears!” she began. “This is a special day. My daughter Hannah is getting married… to her new life! To freedom from unworthy people! To her right to be happy!”
Silence fell. Someone coughed awkwardly.
“Vicky, have you lost the plot?” whispered Mum’s sister, Nina.
“On the contrary, regained my senses!” Mum retorted. “Hannah, come here!”
I reluctantly approached. She put an arm around my shoulders.
“My beautiful girl! Clever, kind, practical! And this… what’s-his-name… James, he isn’t worthy! Let everyone know – we’re celebrating, not crying!”
“Mum, stop it,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“I won’t!” Mum lifted her glass. “To my daughter! To her waking up in time about who’s not worth it!”
Guests hesitantly raised glasses. Someone mumbled, “To Hannah,” others just sipped silently.
“Right, tuck in everyone!” Mum announced. “Time to enjoy ourselves!”
I took my place at the head table. Beside me stood an empty chair, decked with ribbons – the groom’s seat. A pitiful sight.
“Listen, shall we move that chair?” suggested Aunt Gladys.
“Absolutely not!” Mum cut in. “Let everyone see who’s missing! Let them draw their own conclusions!”
Salads appeared. Guests ate quietly, exchanging meaningless remarks. The atmosphere was taut as a bowstring.
“Why so gloomy?” Mum stood up. “Hannah, tell everyone about your last row with James!”
“Mum, please don’t!” I pleaded.
“We must!” insisted Victoria Bennett. “Let them hear the truth!”
I looked around the hall, at those curious, pitying faces, and something inside me shifted.
“Alright,” I said, rising. “I’ll tell you. James rang yesterday. Said he’d changed his mind. Said he wasn’t ready for responsibility, needed time for himself. We were together three years! Three years waiting for a proposal, planning, dreaming of children!”
The hall hushed completely.
“And you know what?” I continued, feeling anger lend me strength. “Mum’s right! Stop waiting for men to deign to make us happy! I can find happiness myself! Without James, without any man who doesn’t value what he has!”
“Well said, love!” Mum chimed in. “We women are our own masters!”
“I left my Victor last year,” piped up our neighbour, Auntie Cleo. “Fed up with his moods. Now I live peacefully, answer to no one!”
“Quite right too!” supported another woman. “My Steve thought I’d flounder without him. I sold my flat, bought a cottage, grow tomatoes to sell now. Better off than with him!”
Gradually, women shared their stories. Divorces, learning independence. Men sat silently, occasionally exchanging glances.
“Remember, Vicky,” ventured a distant relation, “how your mum opposed your wedding? Said Hannah’s dad wasn’t worth it?”
“I remember,” Mum nodded. “She was right. He left us when Hannah was five. Said he was too young, married too soon.”
“They all say that!” cried another auntie. “‘Too young!’ And who’s left with the kids? Us!”
The chatter grew livelier. Women swapped tales, men tried defending themselves or stayed mute. I sat in my white dress, feeling something shift inside.
“You know what,” I said as talk lulled, “You’re right. Enough waiting for princes! I have my job, my earnings, my flat. Why shackle to a man who vanishes last minute?”
“Exactly!” agreed a younger woman, Mum’s friend’s sister. “I’m raising Ethan solo, managing fine. Kept waiting for his dad to wake up. Finally did – married someone else!”
“My friend started university at forty,” shared another guest. “Dreamt of psychology, her husband forbade it. Once divorced? Applied immediately!”
Mum went to the speakers and put music on.
“That’s enough melancholy!” she declared. “Let’s dance! Hannah, you start!”
“Mum, I’m in a wedding dress!”
“So what? Your dress, your rules!”
I stood, tentatively swaying. Other women joined me. Men stayed seated, a few foot-tapping.
“Hey, Hannah, recall our school disco moves?” my old classmate Olivia bounded over. “You were the best dancer!”
“I recall,” I laughed. “Back then, my whole life seemed up ahead, like a movie!”
“And isn’t it?” Olivia asked seriously. “Life *is* up ahead! You’re young, beautiful, clever. James? His loss, not yours!”
Dancing continued. Guests brightened, laughing, joking. Toasts went up for the bride, for strong women. The mood transformed from wake to celebration.
“Hannah, my dear, you look lovely today!”
She smoothed the creases of her gown, a quiet certainty settling within her that her truest commitment was now to her own happiness and future, whatever it might hold.
