A Surprise for the New Year: A Bride No One Expected
Alistair, Edward, and Oliver had been inseparable since childhood. Though their professions and temperaments differed, their friendship had stood the test of time. Alistair was the first to marry—not out of great passion, but more because it seemed the right thing to do. Yet, over the years, respect and even tenderness grew between him and Margaret.
Edward followed, marrying for love—a vibrant, mutual, joyful romance. His wife, Charlotte, quickly became friends with Margaret, and soon the couples spent their days together.
Oliver, however, remained a bachelor. He brushed off questions with a laugh, saying it was easier to breathe alone. But that New Year’s Eve, he announced he wouldn’t be arriving solo—he was bringing a girl. For the first time ever, he was introducing someone special to his oldest friends.
In Alistair’s home, preparations were in full swing: the tree was adorned, the roast marinated, the champagne chilled. Edward and Charlotte had already arrived with their young son, Thomas. Nerves fluttered—what would she be like? The woman who had finally caught Oliver’s discerning eye?
“Probably some high-powered businesswoman with a Cambridge degree,” Edward teased.
“Or a cover model from a glossy magazine,” Alistair added.
“Enough, you two,” Margaret sighed. “Whoever she is, the important thing is that he’s happy.”
When the doorbell rang, Alistair hurried to answer. There stood Oliver… with Veronica.
Oliver’s bride stunned them all. Petite and curvy, she wore a sparkling sequined dress, bold makeup, and eyelash extensions, her nails painted in intricate designs. Rainbow braids peeked from beneath her coat, and a leather corset hugged her frame.
“Hello, everyone! So lovely to meet you!” Veronica batted her lashes. “You must be Margaret and Charlotte?”
The wives offered stiff smiles as they shook her hand. The room thickened with awkwardness, though everyone fought to keep composure.
In the kitchen, the women tried to include her. To their surprise, Veronica threw herself into peeling vegetables, chopping herbs, and grating beetroot—quick and precise. Margaret and Charlotte exchanged glances. They’d expected disaster, yet here she was, a capable helper.
“What do you do for work?” Charlotte ventured cautiously.
“I’m a photographer,” Veronica replied. “Magazine shoots, documentary work. Recently, I visited an orphanage—did a portrait series for the children. Wanted them to have something beautiful to remember.”
Another surprise. It didn’t match her flamboyant appearance. But what truly astonished them was how she interacted with the children. She spent the evening playing with Thomas and Alistair’s seven-year-old daughter, Sophie.
When gifts were exchanged—a long-standing tradition—Veronica’s presents were thoughtful, tailored to each person’s tastes.
The next morning, while the others still slept, Veronica was outside building a snowman with the children. The house smelled of coffee, and the kitchen held neatly laid-out cups.
“She’s wonderful,” Alistair murmured to Oliver. “Don’t let her go.”
“You’re a lucky man,” Charlotte added, grateful for a rare night of undisturbed rest.
Only then did they realize how wrong they’d been. Appearances deceive. Veronica was everything one could hope for—kind, genuine, steadfast. The sort of woman every man dreams of, even if he doesn’t know it at first.
