**Diary Entry**
Weeks after the wedding, I overheard a conversation between my husband and my motherwhat I heard froze me to the core with terror.
I, Emily, had truly believed my marriage to James was the start of a fairy tale, filled with happiness and warmth. Our chance meeting in a cosy café just outside Manchester, the whirlwind four months before his proposal, and then the soft blush-and-gold ceremonyit had all felt like a dream come true. My mother, Margaret, adored him, calling him the “perfect son-in-law.” But after the harvest supper we hosted for family, that illusion shattered like thin glass under fates cruel hand.
After dinner, I went upstairs to fetch an old box of family keepsakesletters and faded photographs. As I descended the creaky stairs of our cottage, I pausedmuffled voices drifted from the parlour. James was speaking, and every word pierced my heart like a dagger:
*”Margaret, Id never have married her if it werent for your money.”*
My breath caught, my legs nearly gave way. My mother replied in a hushed but firm tone:
*”Keep your voice down, James! She might hear. Just wait. Once her job situation improves, you can leave. Shes too fragileshe wont cope alone.”*
James muttered, irritation sharp in his voice:
*”Dont forget the last instalment by New Years. Without it, Im gone.”*
I barely made it back to the bedroom, gripping the banister to keep from collapsing. My world was crumbling. My mother had paid James to marry me. Everythinghis sweet words, his attentiveness, our vows at the altarhad been a lie, bought with tainted money. Ice-cold pain washed over me, but I resolved to uncover the full truth.
While he slept, I searched his belongings and found proofbank statements with transfers from Mum, marked *”expenses,”* *”first instalment,”* *”final payment.”* His emails revealed debts, overdue loans, desperate pleas for money from friends. James was drowning in financial ruin, and my mother had thrown him a lifeline at my expense. Now, every glance, every touch from him sent a shudder of revulsion through me. Conversations with Mum became tortureI burned to scream, to spew the poison festering inside, but I stayed silent, gathering strength. Questions haunted me: Did Mum truly believe I wasnt worthy of love? Was anything in this marriage real?
I decided their betrayal wouldnt stay hidden. On New Years Eve, as the family gathered around the dining table in Mums house, I made my move. Beneath the Christmas tree lay a small presenta red-ribboned box.
*”This is for you, Mum. You deserve it,”* I said, holding her gaze.
Margaret opened it with a smile, then paled. Inside were printouts of the bank transfersirrefutable proof.
*”What is this?”* she whispered, her voice shaking.
*”Proof that you bought me a husband,”* I replied calmly, though a storm raged within me.
Silence hung thick, like the air before a thunderclap. James dropped his fork, the clatter sharp against his plate.
*”Emily, I can explain”* he began, but his voice was pathetic, like a trapped animals.
*”Dont bother. You got your money. This marriage is over.”*
Mum burst into tears, collapsing into her chair.
*”I did it for you! You were unwell, fragile! I couldnt bear you being alone!”*
*”No,”* my voice trembled with hurt. *”You did it to control me. Congratulations, Mum. You bought me a husband and lost a daughter.”*
I walked out, leaving them in a deathly hush. The icy wind stung my cheeks, but my tears had dried. By January, I filed for divorce. James didnt fightthe masks had slipped, and he had no defence. Mum called, begging forgiveness, but every plea was a fresh echo of betrayal, leaving me shaking. The strain took its tollmy heart raced, my hands trembled, but friends and long therapy sessions pulled me from that hell.
Now, Im free. For the first time in years, I breathe deeply, no longer glancing back at the lies and chains that bound me. That freedom is worth more than all the riches in the world. I look ahead, where theres no James, no Mums schemes, and I realiseI survived. And you? What would you do in my place? Could you endure such a blow and find the strength to move on?
