“I’m Not the One He Chose”
“No, Emma, you don’t understand! I can’t go on like this!” Marina gripped her friend’s arm so tightly Emma winced. “He’s marrying her! That… that airhead! And what about me? Twelve years wasted?”
“Marina, let go—you’re hurting me!” Emma tried to pull her hand free, but Marina held on, her eyes burning with desperation. “Just listen to me…”
“No, you listen!” Marina shot up from the kitchen chair, pacing the small flat like a caged animal. “Twelve years, Emma! Twelve years I waited! When he was at university, I worked to help pay his bills. When he struggled to find a job, I supported him. When his mum fell ill, I sat by her hospital bed like her own daughter! And he… he…”
Her voice broke. She sank back into the chair and buried her face in her hands.
Emma nudged the lukewarm cup of 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 who was he meant for? Sitting alone at forty, dreaming of what could’ve been?”
“You’re only thirty-eight…”
“I’ll be thirty-nine soon!” Marina cut in. “What am I supposed to do now? Start over? Find someone else? Who’d even want me at this age? All the decent men are taken!”
Emma stayed silent. She’d known Marina since uni, watched her waver between hope and despair all these years. Victor drifted in and out, promising marriage one day and backing off the next. Marina waited, believing every word.
“Remember when we took those Spanish classes together?” Emma asked softly. “You wanted to travel, see the world. Then you met Victor and dropped everything.”
“What does Spanish have to do with this?” Marina scoffed. “I loved him, Emma. Really loved him! Not like those silly girls who swap men like shoes. And he… he just used me!”
“He didn’t use you. It just… wasn’t right between you.”
“Wasn’t right?” Marina strode to the window, staring at the snow-covered garden. “You know what he said when I confronted him? That I knew him too well. That Olivia’s 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 torturing myself—I’m furious! How did this happen? We were happy! Remember our weekends in the countryside? The flowers he’d bring me? Calling me the best thing that ever happened to him?”
Emma nodded. “But that was ages ago.”
“Not that long! Just last year! We talked about children, names—he even picked some out! And now Olivia’s two months pregnant!”
Emma startled. “Pregnant? You never told me!”
“What for?” Marina slumped into the chair, deflated. “So you’d know he’s not just marrying her, but having the baby we dreamed of?”
“Good God, Marina…” Emma wrapped an arm around her. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be!” Marina shrugged her off. “This is my fault! I should’ve left years ago when he first claimed he wasn’t ready for commitment. But I thought I could change him, make him see how good I was…”
“You are good, love. Kind, smart, beautiful…”
“Beautiful?” Marina laughed bitterly. “Look at me! Grey hair, wrinkles, a few extra pounds. Olivia’s young, slim, stylish. Of course he chose 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 the perfect girlfriend, partner, almost-wife. But Victor… he’s just not the man who could make you happy. He’s selfish, Marina. Always has been.”
“No, you don’t know him! He can be so sweet, so caring…”
“When it suits him. Remember how he vanished when you needed him? How he kept delaying introducing you to his parents? How he swore he loved you while seeing others?”
Emma hesitated, then sighed. “I saw him last year. With some blonde. Kissing in a café. I wanted to tell you, but…”
“But you didn’t!” Marina shot up, pacing again. “You knew he cheated and said nothing!”
“I wasn’t sure! Maybe she was just a friend…”
“Or his mistress! You should’ve told me!”
“And what would you have done? Forgave him, like always!”
Marina opened her mouth—then stopped. She had forgiven everything: broken promises, disappearances, always making excuses.
“Know what hurts most?” she whispered. “I thought we were the same. Shared dreams, values. Turns out, he doesn’t even remember our talks. When I asked if he recalled planning our future, he called it nonsense.”
Emma stirred her tea. “What now?”
“I don’t know. Part of me wants to confront him, scream my heart out. The other part wants to forget he ever existed.”
“The second sounds healthier.”
“Easy for you to say! How do I forget twelve years? The man I loved more than myself? I even turned down that London job for him, remember?”
“Course I do. Thought you’d lost your mind.”
“Now I know I did. I shaped my life around him, and he barely noticed. Or worse—expected it.”
Marina studied her reflection.
“My mum always warned me: never lose yourself for a man. I didn’t listen. I thought love meant giving everything.”
“Maybe she was right.”
“She was. But I thought being the perfect girlfriend would make him stay. That loyalty and patience would win.”
“And now?”
“Now I know men don’t value what comes too easily. What they want is a challenge—like he said. I was an open book. Predictable. Boring.”
Emma set her cup down. “What if he regrets it? Realises what he’s lost?”
“What then?” Marina turned sharply. “He’ll come crawling back, and I’ll take him in? Wait for scraps of attention? No. Even if he returns, I won’t have him.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m not that naive girl anymore. I want a man who loves me for me—not because I’m convenient. One who’s proud of me, not ashamed.”
“Those men exist.”
“Maybe. But first, I need to figure out who I am without Victor. Twelve years living for him—what do I even like? What do I want?”
“Now’s your chance to find out.”
“Yeah. That Spanish you mentioned… maybe it’s time to learn. Or travel. I’ve never left England.”
“Brilliant! I’ll go with you.”
For the first time all evening, Marina smiled. “I’d love that. You know what? I’m glad he’s marrying her. Otherwise, I’d still be hoping, waiting. Now it’s over.”
“No, love. Now it’s just beginning. Your real life.”
“My real life,” Marina echoed. “No more waiting. No more disappointments.”
“Exactly. And one day, he’ll regret it.”
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “Or maybe not. And honestly? I don’t care anymore. Let him have his ‘mysterious’ Olivia. I’m finally living for me.”
Emma hugged her as snow fell outside. Marina closed her eyes. Tomorrow was a new day—no Victor, no waiting, no hoping he’d choose her. He’d chosen someone else. It hurt, but now she was free. Free to be herself, not just a shadow of his wants.