The Runaway Bride
James stepped off the train, nodded goodbye to the ticket inspector, and made his way toward the old single-story station building. Inside, the hall was vast—ticket counters and kiosks selling newspapers and drinks lined the walls, while rows of bolted-down iron chairs filled the center. To the left of the doors, a small café was run by a plump woman behind the counter. A handful of passengers sat waiting for their trains.
“Spare fifty quid for a ticket, love?” slurred a woman of indeterminate age, her face flushed, makeup smudged. The sharp tang of alcohol clung to her.
“How about I buy you a sandwich instead?” James suggested, guiding her toward the café, but she yanked her arm free.
“Piss off! Look proper, don’t you?” she shrieked, drawing stares before the station’s hum resumed.
He smirked and walked to the woman behind the counter.
“Did right, lad. She’s always begging here. Lost herself completely. Used to be lovely, too. Bloody love ruins people,” the woman sighed. “Tea and a pasty?”
“No thanks. I need to get to Meadowbrook. Where’s the bus stop?”
“Last one left. Next’s at half five tomorrow morning.” She noticed his disappointment. “Plenty of blokes do private runs outside, though. Charge a fortune.”
“Cheers.” James adjusted his duffel bag and headed out.
The evening had turned brisk. He pulled out his phone, dialed, but no one answered.
Suddenly, a silver Vauxhall pulled up beside the station. A girl darted past him inside—her face faintly familiar, though he’d never been here before. Curious, he followed. She was chatting with the café woman.
“Fancy a cuppa?” the woman offered.
“Ta, Auntie Jean, but I’m off.” The girl turned—and collided with James. “Sorry, didn’t see you.”
Her eyes were like blue lakes, her cheeks dimpled. She was the loveliest girl he’d ever seen.
“Oi, Chloe’s heading to Meadowbrook. Give this lad a lift, eh?” the woman called.
Chloe studied him. “Alright then. Let’s go.”
He barely kept up as she marched to the car. She yanked open the passenger door and hauled out a large bag.
“Let me help—”
“No. It’s my veil and bouquet,” she said with a dimpled smile. “Just open the boot.”
After stowing it, she motioned him in. “Hop in.”
“Wait—you’re Chloe! No wonder you looked familiar,” he blurted, then clarified at her puzzled look. “I’m James. Here for your wedding—served with Daniel. He didn’t meet me.”
“Stag night,” she laughed, dimples flashing. “Seen my photo, then?”
The car wound through dark forest lanes, headlights pushing back the shadows.
“Not scared, driving alone in the dark?” James asked.
“Hardly. Daniel couldn’t come today.”
“No florists in Meadowbrook?”
“Wanted something special.” She kept her eyes on the road.
“You’re marrying quick—just a year after he’s back.”
“We promised before he left,” she said brightly.
James stared at her dimple. “So… obligation, not love?”
“Love too,” she answered, missing his tone.
Silence stretched.
“You drive well,” he offered.
“Danny taught me. Where to in Meadowbrook?”
“The inn, I suppose.”
“Tell you what—I’ll drop you at the pub. Sort it with him there.”
“Bit odd, lugging this inside…”
“Leave it with me. Fetch it tomorrow. Pub, then?” Her glance was quick.
“Pub it is.”
As darkness swallowed the road, James recalled another photo he’d seen at the barracks—a fiery-haired girl with smoldering eyes.
“Who’s this?” he’d asked.
“Fancy her?” Daniel had smirked, snatching it back. “Chloe’s better,” James had said.
Daniel stayed silent. That night, he’d boasted of conquests. “Just crook my finger, any bird’s mine.”
Decent bloke, but the bragging grated. James pitied Chloe. Daniel would cheat, wreck her life. Then, out of nowhere, a wedding invite. Why not go?
“Let’s drop the ‘sir’ bit, eh?” James suggested.
“Alright,” Chloe agreed easily.
The pub was ablaze, music thumping. Daniel, already sloshed, waved him over. “My army mate!”
They embraced. Someone shoved a whiskey into James’s hand. Girls in tight dresses writhed to the beat…
***
James woke in an unfamiliar flat, head pounding. His watch read 8:50 AM.
He found Daniel in bed—not with Chloe, thank God, but some redhead.
“Up. Registry office in three hours.”
The girl stirred. “Know he’s getting married today?” he hissed. “Leave after I do.”
Under the shower, the hammering in his skull eased. The door clicked—she’d gone.
Daniel stumbled in, groaning. “Proper messed up…”
James shoved him into the bath, alternating icy and scalding water until he sobered.
“You saved me, mate,” Daniel gasped, clutching coffee later. “Nearly ruined my wedding.”
“Yeah. Lovely.”
“Who’d you shag last night?”
“Lorraine. Fancy her? I’m feeling generous.”
James clenched his fists. The doorbell rang.
Chloe stood there, makeup perfect, holding his bag. “Forgot this. Everything alright? Danny okay?”
He wanted her to ask about him.
“Don’t be late,” she called, already descending.
Her voice seemed to echo long after the door slammed.
“No one,” James said when Daniel asked. “Get dressed.”
“Love her?” he demanded, handing Daniel a shirt.
“Chloe? Piss off, she’s mine.”
At the registry office, Daniel vanished.
“They’re next!” an official called.
James found him in a supply closet—trousers down, with the redhead.
A gasp. Chloe’s heels clattered away.
Outside, guests gawked at the sobbing bride.
“Go back, or it’s off,” James said.
“I can’t!” Mascara streaked her cheeks.
The wedding car took them home. She washed her face, changed.
“Come with me,” James urged. “Just… away.”
She packed haphazardly. “Don’t care. Just gone.”
As they left, shouts echoed up the stairwell.
***
Three years later, James woke to a toddler bouncing on him, Chloe laughing beside them.
“Happy birthday,” she said, handing him a laptop.
Shaving later, he grinned at his reflection. “Lucky bastard.”
“Talking to yourself?” Chloe called.
“On the phone,” he lied.
At the breakfast table, he kissed her, then their giggling daughter. “Love you.”
“Love you too. Imagine if I hadn’t run…”
