June15,2025 London
I never thought Id be writing this, but after todays calamity I need to get the thoughts out of my head. Im still wearing the tuxedo that was meant for the wedding, the bowtie halfloosened, and the weight of the day presses on my chest like a bad omen.
Kevin, we need to talk, Poppy said, standing in the doorway of the grooms suite. She looked stunning in her ivory gown, yet her face bore a strange, determined set that Id never seen before.
I glanced up from the knot Id just finished tying. The ceremony was due to start in half an hour. Poppy, you cant be looking at the groom before the vows, I said with a nervous smile, trying to defuse the tension. Its bad luck, you know.
She stepped forward, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. The warmth in her eyes, which had always been reserved just for me, was replaced by something cold and foreign. I have something to tell you, she whispered.
A knot tightened in my stomach. Id known Poppy for four years, learning to read every inflection of her voice, every glance she gave. This was a tone Id never heard.
Whats wrong? I asked, though my gut was already screaming that the answer would not be pleasant.
She inhaled deeply, as if bracing herself for icy water. Ive changed my mind about marrying you, she said evenly. My exboyfriend has proposed again. Hes more promising.
I stared at her, halfasleep, halfin disbelief. Outside the hotel window, the June sun bathed the city in a golden glow; somewhere downstairs the guests were gathering, bridal party laughing, music drifting through the hall. In this small, stark room my world collapsed.
Youre joking? I managed to choke out.
No, she replied, eyes dropping. Im sorry. I know this is awful, but better now than a lifetime of regret.
Regret? Anger surged through me. You thought youd be suffering with me? All these four years were what? Waiting for something better?
She winced as if shed been hit by a sudden toothache. Dont simplify it. We were good, truly. But Oliver hes always been special to me. You knew that from the start.
I did know. Wed met at a friends birthday party when Poppy had just ended things with Oliver Whitaker, a successful restaurateur who owned a chain of eateries. Their twoyear romance had ended abruptly when Oliver flew to NewYork to expand his business, leaving Poppy with a shattered heart.
I had spent months piecing her heart back together, never pushing, never demandingjust being there, reliable, understanding, caring. Eventually she seemed to return my feelings, or at least thats how I believed it.
Did he come back? I asked, trying to steady my thoughts. When?
A month ago, she answered quietly. He called while you were on that business trip to Manchester.
And you decided just like that? In a month? My voice cracked.
It wasnt simple, she said, her eyes hardening with resolve. I fought with myself, truly. But when he proposed Kevin, you have to understand. Hes opening a restaurant holding across Europe. Ill have my own cosmetics line. Its a completely different life.
I stared at the woman I had called the love of my life that morningbeautiful, ambitious, brilliant. She worked as a manager in a boutique salon, dreaming of her own enterprise, while I was a modest engineer earning a decent, but unremarkable, £45000 a year.
What about our plans? I asked. The house we talked about? Children?
My plans have changed, she said, stepping toward the door. I must go. Oliver is waiting downstairs.
Here? I could barely believe it. Hes arrived on our wedding day?
I asked him to come, she said, already gripping the door handle. I didnt want to be alone after this conversation.
What about the guests? My mother flew in from Birmingham to see this?
Ill tell everyone, she interrupted. Ill say its my fault, a sudden decision.
Its a sudden decision! I raised my voice. Yesterday you swore you loved me! You kissed me this morning and promised wed be happy!
I was wrong, she whispered, tears forming. Im sorry.
She slipped out, the door closing softly behind her. I stood in the middle of the suite, stunned, crushed, unable to comprehend. The clock on the wall read fifteen minutes to the ceremony. Downstairs, the guests waited, the band tuned, everything prepared for a celebration that would never happen.
I sank onto the bed, loosening the bowtie. My mind whirledwhy? How could she? What now? How would I face the crowd?
The door opened again, this time without a knock. Ian, my best man and lifelong friend, stepped in, his face a mask of confusion.
Kevin, whats going on? he asked. Poppy just came through the hall in her dress, crying, with some man. They got into a black Mercedes and left. What the
Shes not marrying me, I said flatly. Her ex has returned, and hes more promising, you see.
Ians jaw dropped. Your mothers from Norfolk, right? Shes in tears.
Yes, I muttered. We have to tell the guests. Cancel everything.
Ill help, Ian said, placing a hand on my shoulder. How are you holding up?
Like Im in a nightmare, I admitted. I dont know what to do.
Going out to the guests was the hardest thing Ive ever facedannouncing the wedding was off, fielding sympathetic looks, whispered gossip, and the stunned faces of both families. My own mother, who had driven up from Norfolk, sobbed, repeatedly asking, Why, my boy?
When the night finally wound down and the untouched banquet lay untouched, I sat alone in the suite, phone buzzing with messages from friends, colleagues, relatives. I answered none.
Ian slid a glass of whisky across the nightstand. Here, have a drink. Itll help.
I took a sip; the burn in my throat offered no real relief.
Whats the worst part? I said after a long silence. I always felt she wasnt fully mine. That somewhere deep down she still held Olivers image. I hoped time would erase it.
It happens, Ian replied. First loves linger. But to bail on your wedding day thats beyond the pale.
She always liked grand gestures, I said bitterly. Remember how we met?
At Sophies birthday, Ian recalled. She was in a black dress, looking melancholy about a past love.
And I walked up and said
Maybe black isnt your colour? Ian finished, laughing. You gave her a silly daisy from a pot.
She smiled for the first time that night, I remembered, closing my eyes. She said life goes on.
And now she quits for the same man she mourned, Ian said, shaking his head. Lifes a cruel joke.
The night passed without sleep. I replayed the past four yearsjoy, arguments, reconciliations, future planswondering if any of it had ever been real or just a façade for Olivers shadow.
The next morning I returned to the flat wed shared to collect my things. The door squeaked open, and the emptiness hit me hard. Poppys favourite figurines were gone, the framed photos cleared away, even her cosmetics vanished from the bathroom. On the kitchen table lay an envelope, a note, and a spare key.
Kevin, Im sorry for everything. Youre a good man and deserve happiness. I must go my own way. Ill collect my things later. P
Brief, dry, lacking any remorse, as if four years could be erased with a single slip of paper.
I sank onto the couch wed once chosen together after a long debate over colour. Shed argued for beige, practical; Id pushed for navy, bold. A navy sofa feels like a bachelors choice, shed teased. Were a family, shed replied.
Familyword that now seared my mind like a brand.
I packed my suitcase and moved in with Ian, who offered a spare room until I could get back on my feet. My boss was surprisingly understanding, granting me a weeks leave. The shock left me numb, and neither friends nor relatives could pull me out.
A week later, Sophiewhod hosted the birthday where we first metcalled. Kevin, can we meet? Theres something we need to talk about.
We met at a small café near Ians flat. Sophie seemed both embarrassed and determined.
Ive known Poppy since university, she began, after we exchanged greetings. I feel awkward bringing this up, but you should know
About Oliver? I said, already weary.
No, about you. She paused. I overheard Poppy and Oliver talking before the wedding. Oliver asked why shed ever agree to marry me. She answered, Because youre reliable, steady, predictable. Its comfortable, but boring.
His words cut deeper than any knife.
I was boring? I whispered, the sting of shame flooding my thoughts. She said I was safe.
Sophie continued, Oliver then said, A stone wall is solid, but living inside it feels like being imprisoned. And Poppy agreed.
I stared at my cold coffee, a storm of anger, hurt, and shame roiling inside. The worst part was the humiliation of being called boringthe very thing Id prided myself on.
Why tell me this now? I asked.
Because its not true, Kevin, she said firmly. Youre interesting, you have a sharp wit, you care deeply. You merely dimmed yourself next to her, became a shadow, afraid to step out of line.
She reminded me of countless times Id compromised my own plans for hers, cancelled trips with mates because she feared for me, stopped seeing friends she didnt approve of. I realized Id let her steer my life.
Why didnt you say this earlier? I asked quietly.
Would I have been listened to? Sophie shook her head. You saw her as a goddess, perfect. It took me a while to make you see yourself.
She left, and the weight of her words lingered. I returned to work, found a new flat, started jogging each morningsomething Id given up because Poppy disliked me being out before sunrise. Gradually the pain dulled, though the occasional nighttime emptiness remained.
Three months later, I spotted her in a department store, staring at rings in a jewellery window. She was still the same radiant, confident woman.
Hello, I said, walking up.
She turned, surprise flashing across her face, quickly masked by a strained smile. Kevin hi. How are you?
Better than three months ago, I replied honestly. Still looking at rings?
She blushed, looking away. Yes, Oliver and I are getting married next month.
Congratulations, I said, genuinely. I hope it goes through this time.
She swallowed, lips trembling. I know it hurts you. Im really sorry
No need, I raised a hand, stopping her. Everythings been said. I just wanted to thank you.
For what? she asked, genuinely puzzled.
For walking away, I said. If you hadnt, I would have spent the rest of my life pretending to be someone I wasnt, losing myself.
She frowned. I dont understand.
It isnt needed, I smiled. Goodbye, Poppy. Be happy.
I left feeling oddly light, as if a massive weight had finally been lifted.
Later that afternoon my phone rang. The screen displayed Poppys number.
Kevin? her voice sounded unsteady.
We already spoke, I said.
No, seriously. I cant stop thinking about what you saidabout a foreign life, about losing myself.
Whats there to think about? I shrugged. I meant exactly what I said.
Were you unhappy with me? she asked, a hint of hurt in her tone.
No, I answered honestly. I was happy, but it was happiness built on the sacrifice of part of myselfmy desires, my principles. I molded myself to fit your expectations, becoming quieter, more convenient.
A pause. Did I lose myself too, beside you?
I dont think so, I said with a faint grin. You always knew what you wanted and chased it.
Silence settled, then she whispered, Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I shouldnt have
Stop, I interjected. Dont dwell on that, Poppy. You made the choice you believed was right, and I accepted it. Theres no turning back.
Why? she asked, tears threatening.
Because I no longer want to be the backup plan, I said firmly. I dont want to be the stone wall people lean on while they look for something brighter, more prospective.
She whispered, Youve changed.
Yes, I admitted. And thats the only positive outcome of our story. Thank you for the call, but please dont call again.
I hung up, inhaled deeply, and felt a strange mix of sorrow and relief. One chapter closed; another, unwritten, waited for me to write it.
Six months later, on a snowy December day, I stood on the viewing platform of a ski resort in the Lake District, finally fulfilling a longheld dream of learning to ski. The sun sparkling off the fresh powder made everything look pristine.
Beautiful, isnt it? a voice called beside me.
I turned to see a girl in a bright blue ski jacket, her hazel eyes twinkling with excitement.
Indeed, I replied, smiling. Your first time?
Its my third, she said, taking off a glove and extending her hand. Anna.
Kevin, I shook it. So, youre a pro?
More a stubborn hobbyist, she laughed. I fall a lot but always get back up. You?
Just a beginner, finally living a dream, I said, watching the slopes where skiers swooshed down. You know, we often postpone things, thinking maybe later. Then we realise, if not now, maybe never.
Philosopher, she teased, tilting her head. I like people who think about life.
And I like people who can fall and rise again, I answered. Fancy tackling that slope together? I promise a graceful tumble.
Deal, Anna giggled, her laughter echoing off the snowy hills. First one to the lodge buys mulled wine!
She zipped down, and I followed, feeling my heart surge with pure, unfiltered joy. For the first time in ages I was wholly, completely myself. All the loss and heartache seemed worth it for this moment.
Sometimes you must lose something precious to discover something priceless yourself.
