**He Didn’t Choose Me**
*— No, Emma, you don’t understand! I can’t go on like this!*— Marina gripped her friend’s wrist so tightly that Emma winced. *— He’s marrying her! That… that empty-headed girl! And what about me? Twelve years wasted?*
*— Marina, let go—you’re hurting me!*— Emma tried to pry her hand free, but Marina held fast, her eyes burning with desperation. *— Just listen…*
*— No, you listen!*— Marina shot up from the kitchen chair and paced the cramped room like a caged animal. *— Twelve years, Emma! Twelve years I waited for him! When he was at uni, I worked to help pay his way. When he was job hunting, I supported him. When his mum fell ill, I sat by her bedside like her own daughter! And he… he…*
Her voice broke. She sank back into the chair and buried her face in her hands.
Emma slid the now-cooled tea toward her.
*— Maybe it’s for the best, love? Maybe he wasn’t meant for you.*
*— Not meant for me?*— Marina’s head snapped up, her glare making Emma flinch. *— Then what is? Sitting alone at forty, wondering what could’ve been?*
*— You’re only thirty-eight…*
*— Nearly thirty-nine!*— Marina cut in. *— And what now? Start over? Find someone else? Who’d want me at this age? All the decent blokes are married off!*
Emma stayed silent. She’d known Marina since uni, watched her swing between hope and despair for years. Victor drifted in and out, promising marriage one minute, claiming he wasn’t ready the next. And Marina waited, believing every word.
*— Remember when we took those French classes?*— Emma said softly. *— You talked about travelling abroad, seeing the world. Then you met Victor and dropped it all.*
*— What’s French got to do with this?*— Marina scoffed. *— I loved him, Emma. Really loved him! Not like those silly girls who swap men like handbags. And he… he just used me!*
*— He didn’t use you. It just… didn’t work out.*
*— Didn’t work out?*— Marina stood and stared out at the snow-covered garden. *— Know what he told me when I found out about the wedding? That I “knew him too well.” That Olivia was “more exciting” because she’s mysterious. Mysterious! A twenty-year-old student who can’t do anything but take selfies!*
*— Marina, don’t torture yourself…*
*— I’m not!*— She whirled around. *— I’m angry! How did this happen? We were happy! Remember our weekends in the Cotswolds? The flowers he brought me? How he said I was the best?*
*— I remember,*— Emma nodded. *— But that was ages ago.*
*— Only a year! We talked about kids, names, everything! Now Olivia’s two months pregnant!*
Emma startled.
*— She’s pregnant? You never said!*
*— Why bother?*— Marina slumped, deflated. *— So you’d know he’s not just marrying her but having the baby we dreamed of?*
*— Christ, Marina…*— Emma hugged her shoulders. *— I’m so sorry.*
*— Don’t pity me!*— Marina shoved her away. *— It’s my fault! I should’ve left years ago when he first said he “wasn’t ready.” But I thought I could change him, make him see how good I was…*
*— You are good, love. Kind, clever, beautiful…*
*— Beautiful?*— Marina laughed bitterly. *— Look at me! Grey hair, wrinkles, a stone overweight. Olivia’s young, slim, trendy. Of course he picked her!*
*— It’s not about age or looks!*
*— Then what? Explain it, Emma! What did I do wrong? Why couldn’t I keep him?*
Emma took her hands. *— Listen. You did nothing wrong. You were a perfect partner. But Victor… he’s selfish. He only ever cared about himself.*
*— You don’t know him! He could be so kind, so thoughtful…*
*— When it suited him. Remember how he vanished when you needed him? How he dodged introducing you to his parents? How he swore he loved you while seeing others?*
*— You knew about the others?*— Marina turned sharply.
Emma hesitated. *— I… saw him last year. With a blonde. Kissing in a café. I meant to tell you, but…*
*— But you didn’t!*— Marina sprang up, pacing again. *— You knew he cheated and said nothing!*
*— I wasn’t sure! Maybe it was harmless—*
*— Or his mistress!*— Marina glared. *— You should’ve told me!*
*— And what would you have done? Forgiven him, like always?*
Marina opened her mouth—then shut it. Emma was right. She’d forgiven Victor for everything: forgotten promises, vanishing acts, all of it.
*— Know what hurts most?*— she whispered. *— I thought we were alike. Shared dreams, values. Turns out, he doesn’t even remember our talks. When I asked if he recalled our plans, he called it “just chatter.”*
*— It wasn’t “chatter” to you.*
*— No. Every word mattered. Every kiss. To him? I was convenient. Reliable. Until something better came along.*
Emma stirred her tea. *— What now?*
*— Dunno. Sometimes I want to confront him. Other times, erase him entirely.*
*— Maybe the second’s wiser?*
*— Easy for you! How do I forget twelve years? The man I loved more than myself? I even turned down a London job for him—remember? Because he “didn’t like cities.”*
*— I remember. I thought you’d lost the plot.*
*— So did I. Built my life around him, and he didn’t notice. Or didn’t care.*
Marina studied her reflection. *— Mum always said, “Don’t give everything to a man—keep something for yourself.” I didn’t listen. Thought love meant total sacrifice. That if you loved enough, they’d see it.*
*— Maybe she was right.*
*— She was. But I didn’t get it. Thought being the perfect girlfriend would make him stay. That loyalty won in the end.*
*— And now?*
*— Now I know men don’t value what comes easy. They want a “challenge”—like he said. I was an open book. Boring. Predictable.*
Emma set down her cup. *— What if he regrets it? Realises he lost you?*
*— Then what?*— Marina turned. *— He’ll crawl back, and I’ll take him? No. Even if he returns, I won’t.*
*— Really?*
*— Really. I’m done begging for scraps. I want a man who loves me for me—not because I’m convenient.*
*— They exist, love.*
*— Maybe. But first, I need to find who I am without Victor. Twelve years living for him—what do I even like?*
*— Now you’ll find out.*
*— Yeah. Remember French? Maybe I’ll learn it properly. Travel. Never been abroad.*
*— Brilliant! I’ll come with you.*
Marina smiled for the first time that evening. *— I’d like that. You know… I’m glad he’s marrying her. Otherwise, I’d still be waiting, hoping. Now it’s clear. It’s over.*
*— Not over, love. Now it begins. Your real life.*
*— My real life,*— Marina repeated. *— Without him. Without waiting. Without hoping he’ll change.*
*— Exactly. And you know what? He’ll regret it. Too late.*
*— Maybe.*— She shrugged. *— Or not. And honestly? I don’t care. Let him have his “mysterious” Olivia. Let him raise their kid. I’m living for me now. Finally.*
Emma hugged her, and they sat in silence, listening to the snow fall. Marina thought of tomorrow—a new day, a new life. Without Victor, without waiting, without begging to be chosen. He’d picked someone else. It hurt, but she was free. Free to be herself, not just an echo of someone else’s wants.
