Emily carefully looked over her outfit… The white dress, bought last-minute for pennies at a sale, seemed too plain now. The lace she’d picked so carefully—though she hadn’t really looked closely—suddenly felt cheap.
“Oh well,” she thought. “As long as James likes it.” She sighed. This was the dress she’d marry in. James… He’d been her dream, her love at first sight. Though, to be honest, he wasn’t exactly a prince on a white horse. More like a rugged rugby player—wild blond hair, broad shoulders, and those mischievous cornflower-blue eyes.
Emily *knew* love would hit her like this. Suddenly. At first sight. Just like in the books. She wouldn’t settle for less.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. Of course—it was Mum, probably begging her to call it off *again*.
“Emily, love, listen to me, listen to people who’ve lived more than you have!” Mum’s voice was thick with tears—she’d been crying for days, no doubt. “A wedding just a *month* after meeting? You barely know each other!”
How many times could they have this same conversation?
“When it’s real love, a month’s enough,” Emily said dreamily. “I’ve told you a thousand times. It’s love at first sight! Just like in the films!”
“Films are *fantasy*, love!” Mum shot back. “In fairy tales, they end with ‘happily ever after’ and roll the credits! Real life? That’s when the real work *starts*—jobs, bills, kids… Do you even know where he *works*? What he *does*? What his plans are?”
Emily didn’t answer. She and James had never really talked about that. Their whole relationship had been a whirlwind of affection.
“He works in… logistics, I think?” she dodged. Best not to give details—Mum would absolutely check.
Work? *Work?* At least she hadn’t asked about hobbies. Because all she knew was that James liked nights out with mates, pints, and gaming till dawn. But did that matter when your heart was full?
Dad took over the call.
“Emily, how can you build a life with someone you don’t *know*? You can’t even tell us his job!”
“Gran and Grandad did it—they barely dated before they ran off to the registry office!”
“That was one in a million. Pure luck,” Dad said flatly.
“And I’ll be lucky too!”
“Emily—”
“Sorry, James is here. Gotta go!” She hung up before they could protest.
James walked in, wearing a navy-blue suit—clearly too big, wrinkled, and probably from some last-minute shopping trip. The jacket bunched at his shoulders, the trousers pooled over his shoes. In his hand? A bunch of daisies, tied with a simple ribbon. Picked from a field, most likely. To Emily, they were perfect.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, hands shaking. Took a deep breath. Stepped out, leaving doubts, family warnings, and logic behind. She was walking toward her future.
The registry office was… underwhelming. A tired clerk droned through vows about love and commitment. James clumsily slid a ring onto her finger. A few of his relatives took photos. None of hers came—they’d refused, furious at her stubbornness.
After, they went to his flat—now *their* flat. The “reception” was a table covered in a floral plastic cloth, with sad sandwiches, a bowl of potato salad, and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers. James’s aunt Sheila—clearly unhappy about cooking—his hungover uncle Dave, and his cousin Lucy with her sharp, jealous glances congratulated them half-heartedly before leaving. They looked like they’d just left a funeral.
When the last guest left, James exhaled.
“Alright then. We’re married. Forever.” He spun her around, and Emily laughed, giddy.
That same night, three hours later? Chaos.
Bored after his family left, James suddenly announced weddings weren’t just for family—*mates* needed to celebrate too. And just like that, he was gone, leaving Emily alone in their newlywed flat.
“I’ll be back soon! The lads are begging me to come out—can’t say no on my *wedding day*, can I?” He kissed her cheek and vanished.
“Back soon” turned into dawn.
James stumbled in, blackout drunk, slurring apologies before face-planting into bed. Emily silently covered him with a blanket.
Morning brought his hangover and her crushing disappointment. She’d made a mistake. But she wouldn’t admit it—not to herself, *never* to her parents. This was *love*. She could change him. Love fixed everything, right?
Life with James was a rollercoaster. Unpredictable. He’d vanish for weekends without warning. Blow his paycheck on a gaming console or a ridiculously expensive headset. Scream over an unwashed dish, then shower her with compliments five minutes later.
Once, he bought an abstract painting—a mess of shapes Emily didn’t understand.
“It’s a masterpiece!” he insisted. “You wouldn’t know art if it hit you!”
(He didn’t know art either. It was just impulse.)
Emily stared at it, thinking how that money could’ve fixed the broken washing machine. But she stayed quiet.
James worked in logistics—a small transport company. He hated his boss, dreamed of starting his own business, but never did.
Emily worked in a salon. She liked it. At home, she tried to keep things cosy, cooking, pretending they were normal. But the act was crumbling.
She begged him to take marriage seriously, to stop wasting money, to *think* about the future. He either brushed her off or promised change—then nothing.
One day, after he blew their rent on nonsense, she snapped.
“Are you *kidding* me? We won’t survive like this! *Again*, I have to scrape by because—”
“Relax! I work hard, I deserve to treat myself!”
“And what am *I*? A robot? Just here to serve you?”
“Then buy yourself something! Join that dance class you wanted!”
(She wanted to. But there was never enough left for her.)
A year into their marriage, Emily planned a surprise—candles, a fancy dinner, champagne. She hoped he’d remember.
He came home late. Drunk. With a woman.
“Emily, this is Lily. She’s… pregnant.”
*What?* The floor dropped beneath her.
“Look, I was drunk… I barely remember. But she needs a place to stay. Just till she sorts things out. I *love* you, Em. This was just… a mistake.”
Lily looked mortified. But she had nowhere else to go.
Emily wanted to scream, smash things. Instead, she walked past James—straight out the door. No coat, no plan. Just *gone*.
She took a bus to Gran’s.
Gran was stunned. “Love, what on earth—?”
Emily spilled everything. The drinking, the recklessness, *Lily*.
“I thought love could fix anything,” she sobbed. “But he never loved me. Not really. I wanted what you and Grandad had.”
Gran sighed. “Emily… not everything’s how it seems. You asked how we lasted so long, marrying so fast. Truth is… there was no great love. I married him because he was a good man. But my heart? It was always… elsewhere.”
Emily froze. “What? No—you and Grandad were *perfect*.”
“No. He knew. He stayed anyway. Don’t make his mistake. Don’t settle for just *convenient*.”
Emily left the next morning. Packed a bag. Told James, “I’m leaving *you*.”
Her parents welcomed her without lectures.
Months later, she ran into an old schoolmate, Tom. They took it slow. He loved her—*all* of her.
James married Lily. It didn’t last.
Once, Lily called. Emily hesitated, then answered.
“Emily, I… I’m sorry. For that night. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s done,” Emily said gently. “How are you? The baby?”
“Not great. James never changed. I left him. It’s hard, but… I had to wake up. I thought I could fix him.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Emily said. “I thought so too.”
