Blythe, Ive changed my mind about marrying you. My expartners just offered me something better, the bride announced on her wedding day.
Chris, we need to talk, Blythe stood in the doorway of the grooms suite, radiant in her wedding dress yet bearing an oddly resolute expression.
Chris lifted his head, surprised. He had just finished knotting his bow tie and was about to step out. The ceremony was a halfhour away.
Blythe, whats this? Its bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony, he chuckled. A terrible omen.
What omens now Blythe stepped forward, shutting the door behind her. The loving gaze hed known for years was replaced by something cold and alien. I have something to tell you.
A sudden emptiness gnawed at Chris. Hed known Blythe for four years, learning the cadence of every sigh, the weight of every glance. Hed never seen her face so hard, her tone so flat.
Whats happened? he asked, though his intuition already screamed that nothing good would follow.
Blythe inhaled deeply, as if about to plunge into icy water.
Ive changed my mind about marrying you, she said in an even voice. My former boyfriend proposed again. Hes more promising.
Chris stared, unable to comprehend, his ears refusing to believe the words. Outside the hotel, June sunlight bathed the streets of Bath, while below, guests mingled, bridesmaids laughed, and a band played. Inside that small room, his world crumbled.
Youre joking? he managed.
No, she whispered, eyes dropping. I know its awful timing, but its better now than to suffer forever later.
Suffer? anger rose in Chris like a tide. You were going to suffer with me? All these four years were what? Waiting for something better?
Blythe winced as if a tooth ached.
Dont simplify it. Things were good with you, truly. But James hes always been special to me. You knew that from the start.
Chris remembered. Theyd met at a mutual friends birthday. Blythe had just ended things with James Whitaker, a successful restaurateur who owned a chain of eateries. Their twoyear romance had ended abruptly when James sailed to New York to expand his business, leaving Blythe heartbroken.
Chris had patiently mended the shards of her heart, month after month, never rushing, never pressing. He was simply theresteady, understanding, loving. Eventually, Blythe had seemed to return his feelings, at least how he believed.
Did he return? Chris asked, trying to collect his thoughts. When?
A month ago, Blythe answered softly. He called while you were on a work trip to Manchester.
And you decided just like that? In a month?
It wasnt simple, she said, eyes bright with resolve. I fought with myself. But when he proposed Chris, you have to understand. Hes launching a restaurant holding in Europe. Ill have my own cosmetics line. Its a completely different life.
Chris watched the woman hed called the love of his life that morningbeautiful, intelligent, ambitious. She managed a highend salon and dreamed of owning a business. He, a modest civil engineer earning a decent but unremarkable salary, had always supported her visions.
What about our plans? he asked. The house we talked about? Children?
My plans have changed, Blythe stepped back toward the door. I must go. James is waiting downstairs.
Here? Chris couldnt believe it. He showed up on our wedding day?
I asked him to come, she grabbed the door handle. I didnt want to be alone after this conversation.
And the guests? My mother travelled from Liverpool to see this?
Ill explain everything, Blythe cut in. Ill say its my fault, that this is a sudden decision.
It is sudden! Chris raised his voice. Yesterday you said you loved me! This morning you kissed me and promised happiness!
I was wrong, Blythe lowered her eyes. Im sorry it turned out like this.
She slipped out, the door closing softly behind her.
Chris stood alone, stunned, crushed, unable to process the chaos. The clock on the wall read fifteen minutes to the ceremony. Somewhere below, guests waited, music played, everything prepared for a celebration that would never happen.
He sank onto the bed, loosening his bow tie. Fragmented thoughts whirled: why? How could she? What now? How to face the dozens of eyes that would soon be looking at him?
The door opened again, this time without a knock. Tom, his best man and oldest friend, stepped in.
Chris, whats happening? Tom looked bewildered. Blythe just walked through the hall in her dress, crying, with a man. They got into a black Mercedes and left. What the
Shes not marrying me, Chris said flatly. Her ex is back. More promising, you see.
Toms mouth opened, closed, opened again.
Bloody hell on the wedding day? Seriously?
More than seriously, Chris stood, pacing. We have to tell the guests. Cancel everything.
Ill help, Tom placed a hand on his shoulder. How are you holding up?
Like Im in a nightmare, Chris admitted. I dont know.
Going to the guests felt like the hardest trial of his life. Announcing the weddings cancellation, enduring sympathetic glances, whispered gossip, endless questions. Blythes parents looked as shocked as he didclearly she hadnt told them her plans. His own mother, who had travelled from Bristol, wept, repeating, How could this happen, son?
When the evening finally emptied the venue, the paid banquet sat untouched. Chris sat alone in the suite, staring at a dull point. His phone buzzed nonstopfriends, colleagues, relatives. He didnt answer anyone.
Here, Tom handed him a glass of whisky. Drink. Itll ease it.
Chris took a sip; the burn soothed his throat but not his mind.
The worst part, he said after a long silence, is I always felt she wasnt fully mine. That somewhere deep down she kept his image. I thought time would erase it.
First loves stick, Tom replied, sitting opposite. But to dump her on the wedding day thats beyond the pale.
She loved grand gestures, Chris mused bitterly. Remember how we met?
At Sophies birthday, Tom said, nodding. She was in a black dress, mourning some ex.
And I walked up and said?
Maybe black isnt your colour? Tom finished, chuckling. I gave her that ridiculous potted daisy.
She smiled for the first time that night, Chris recalled, eyes closed. She said then she felt life moving forward.
And now she leaves you for the same man she once mourned, Tom said, shaking his head. Lifes a cruel joker.
The night passed without sleep. Chris lay staring at the ceiling, replaying four yearsjoy, fights, reconciliations, future plans. Was it all a lie? Or did she truly love him until James reappeared?
In the morning he returned to the flat theyd shared to pack his things. The moment he turned the key, emptiness flooded him. Blythes favorite figurines were gone, family photos removed, her cosmetics vanished.
On the kitchen table lay an envelope. Inside, a note and the spare key to the flat.
Chris, Im sorry for everything. Youre a good man and deserve happiness. I must go my own way. Ill collect my things later. B
Brief, dry, no remorse, as if four years could be erased with a piece of paper.
Chris lowered himself onto the sofa they had chosen together, arguing for weeks over its colour. Blythe wanted beige, practical; hed pushed for navy, lively.
Blue sofas are for single lads, shed teased. Were a family.
Familya word now burning his thoughts.
He gathered his belongings and moved in with Tom, who offered a spare room until things settled. He took a few days off work; his boss, understanding the situation, granted the leave. A numbness settled over him that friends and family couldnt lift.
A week later, Millyanother university friendcalled.
Chris, can we meet? I need to talk, she said, her voice tense.
They met at a tiny café near Toms flat. Milly looked both embarrassed and determined.
Ive known Blythe since university, she began. I hate to intrude, but you should hear this.
What about her and James? Chris smiled wryly. No thanks, Im fine.
Its not about them. Its about you, Milly pressed. I overheard Blythe and James talking before the wedding. They mentioned you.
What did they say? Chris asked, uneasy.
James asked why she ever agreed to marry you, Milly paused. She answered, Because youre reliable, steady, predictable. With you its safe, but boring.
The word boring struck Chris harder than any accusation.
Then James said, Hes just a simple engineer. Whats there to love? And Blythe replied, He loves me truly, like a stone wallsteady. James laughed, A stone wall is nice, but living in it feels like being walled in.
Chris sat, coffee growing cold, a storm of anger, disappointment, and shame swirling inside. He realized he had become the very predictable, boring she despised.
Why tell me this? he asked.
Because its false, Milly said, meeting his gaze. Youre not boring. Youre thoughtful, witty, deep. Beside Blythe you just dimmed, became a shadow. You held back, cancelled trips, gave up friends, all to keep her comfortable.
Why didnt you say this sooner? Chris whispered.
If Id said it, would you have listened? Milly shook her head. You adored her like a goddess. Now youre hearing it from me because I regret watching you waste yourself.
He remembered the compromises, the cancelled mountain hike, the evenings he missed because Blythe feared hed get hurt. He felt a flush of shame.
Why now? he asked.
Because I want you to know it isnt youits her endless chase for something brighter, flashier. James is a fireworks show: bright, loud, impressive, then it fizzles.
After Milly left, Chris felt a strange lightness. He returned to work, found a new flat, started jogging at dawnsomething hed abandoned because Blythe disliked early mornings.
The ache dulled over weeks, though occasional nighttime emptiness lingered. He still caught himself thinking, I should tell Blythe but life moved on.
Three months later, he saw her in a shopping centre, standing before a jewellery window, eyeing rings. She was still striking, confident, radiant.
Hello, he said, approaching.
Blythe flinched, turning. A flood of emotionssurprise, embarrassment, something undefinablecrossed her face.
Chris hi, she managed a tight smile. How are you?
Better than three months ago, he replied honestly. And youre still choosing rings?
She blushed, looking away.
Yes, James and I were planning for next month.
Congratulations, he said, surprised at his own sincerity. Hope it actually happens this time.
Chris, she whispered, biting her lip. I know this hurts. Im truly sorry
No need, he raised a hand, stopping her. Everythings been said. I just wanted to thank you. He swallowed, choosing words. Thank you for leaving. If you hadnt, Id still be living someone elses life, losing myself.
She frowned, puzzled.
Its over, he said, smiling faintly. Goodbye, Blythe. Be happy.
He walked away feeling an unburdened lightness, as if a weight years old had lifted.
Later that day his phone rang. The display read Blythe.
Hello? he answered, curiosity more than anger in his voice.
Chris, can we talk? Blythes voice trembled, unsteady.
We already spoke today, he reminded.
No, I mean seriously. I cant stop thinking about what you saidabout a foreign life, about losing myself.
Whats there to think about? he shrugged, though she could not see him. I meant exactly that.
Were you unhappy with me? her tone hinted hurt.
No, he answered honestly. I was happy, but that happiness cost part of memy desires, my principles. I bent myself to fit your expectations, became smaller, quieter, convenient.
Silence stretched. Then she asked, Did I also lose myself with you?
I dont think so, he smiled. You always knew what you wanted and chased it.
Another pause, then, Chris, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldnt have
Stop, he said firmly. Dont. You made the choice you thought was right, and I accepted it. Theres no turning back.
Why? she whispered, tears audible. If we both made mistakes
Because I no longer want to be the backup plan. I dont want to wonder if youre looking for something brighter, more promising.
Youve changed, she observed.
Yes, he agreed. And thats perhaps the only positive outcome of our story. Thank you for calling, Blythe, but please dont call again.
He hung up, inhaled deeply. A strange blend of sadness and relief settled in him. One chapter closed; another lay ahead, his to write.
Six months later, on a snowy December afternoon, Chris stood on the observation deck of a ski resort in the Lake District. He had finally fulfilled his longheld dream of learning to ski. The sun glittered on the powdery slope, and he felt pure happiness.
Beautiful, isnt it? a voice called beside him.
He turned to see a woman in a bright blue ski jacket, eyes brown with specks of gold.
Indeed, he replied, smiling. First time here?
Third, she said, taking off a glove and extending her hand. Anna.
Chris, he shook it. So youre a professional?
More a stubborn enthusiast, she laughed. I fall a lot but always get back up. And you?
A beginner, living a longdeferred dream, he said, watching skiers glide down. You know, we keep putting things off, thinking maybe later. Then we realise, if not now, maybe never.
A philosopher, she teased, tilting her head. I like people who think about life.
And I like people who can fall and rise, he replied. Want to tackle this slope together? I promise spectacular falls.
Deal, Anna giggled, her laughter echoing over the snowcapped hills. First one to the café at the base buys mulled wine!
She swooped down, and he followed, his heart swelling with untainted joy. For the first time in years he was wholly, completely himself. That feeling was worth every loss and every broken promise.
Sometimes you must lose something precious to discover something pricelessyour own self.
