“Emily, Im not marrying you after all. My ex has proposed again hes got a better future,” she announced on the morning of our wedding.
“Kevin, we need to talk,” Emily said, standing in the doorway of the grooms suite. She was gorgeous in her wedding dress, but her face wore a strange, determined expression.
I lifted my head, surprised. I had just finished tightening my bow tie and was about to step out. The ceremony was only half an hour away.
“Emily, you cant be looking at the groom before the ceremony,” I chuckled. “Its a bad omen.”
“What omens now?” she replied, stepping forward and closing the door behind her. The eyes that had always looked at me with love now seemed cold and foreign. “I have something to tell you.”
Something snapped inside me. Id known Emily for four years and could read every intonation, every glance. Id never seen her like this before.
“Whats happened?” I asked, though my gut already sensed the worst.
She inhaled deeply, as if about to plunge into icy water.
“Ive changed my mind,” she said evenly. “My ex has proposed again. Hes got a brighter future.”
I stared at her, unable to comprehend, my ears refusing to believe what I was hearing. Outside the hotel, the June sun shone over London. Downstairs guests were gathering, bridesmaids were laughing, music floated through the hall. In this room my world was collapsing.
“You’re joking?” I finally managed.
“No. I’m sorry,” she lowered her eyes. “I know this is terrible timing, but its better now than to torment us both forever.”
“Torment?” Anger rose like a wave inside me. “You were going to suffer with me? All these four years were what? Waiting for something better?”
Emily winced as if she had a toothache.
“Dont simplify it. It was good with you, truly. But Oliver hes always been special to me. You knew that from the start.”
I did. Wed met at a mutual friends birthday party. Emily had just broken up with Oliver Windham, a successful entrepreneur who owned a chain of restaurants. Their twoyear relationship ended abruptly when Oliver took a job in the United States, leaving Emily heartbroken.
I had patiently gathered the pieces of her broken heart month after month, never rushing, never pressuring. I was simply there reliable, understanding, loving. Eventually Emily seemed to return my feelings, at least thats how I thought.
“Has he come back?” I asked, trying to steady my thoughts. “When?”
“About a month ago,” she whispered. “He called while I was on a business trip to Manchester.”
“And you decided just like that? In a month?”
“It wasnt easy,” she said, her eyes flashing resolve. “I fought with myself, honestly. But when he proposed Kevin, you have to understand. Hes launching a restaurant holding in Europe. Ill have my own cosmetics line. Its a completely different life.”
I stared at the woman Id called the love of my life that morning beautiful, intelligent, ambitious Emily. She worked as a manager in a beauty salon, dreaming of her own business. Id supported those dreams, even though I was just a modest engineer with a decent, if unremarkable, salary.
“What about our plans?” I asked. “The house we talked about? Children?”
“Ill have other plans,” she said, stepping back toward the door. “I must go. Oliver is waiting downstairs.”
“Here?” I couldnt believe it. “Hes come to London on our wedding day?”
“I asked him to come,” Emily said, already reaching for the handle. “I didnt want to be alone after this conversation.”
“And the guests? Our families? My mother drove up from Bristol to see us”
“Ill explain everything,” she interrupted. “Ill say its my fault, that it was a sudden decision.”
“Its sudden!” I raised my voice. “Yesterday you said you loved me! This morning you kissed me and promised happiness!”
“I was wrong,” she lowered her head. “Im sorry it turned out like this.”
She left, closing the door softly behind her.
I stood in the middle of the room, stunned, crushed, unable to grasp what was happening. The clock on the wall read fifteen minutes to the ceremony. Somewhere below, the guests waited, the music played, everything was set for a celebration that would never happen.
I slumped onto the bed, loosening my bow tie. My mind swirled with fragmented thoughts. Why? How could she? What now? How could I face the crowd?
The door opened again, this time without a knock. Ian, my best man and longtime friend, stepped in.
“Kevin, whats happening?” he looked bewildered. “Emily just walked through the hall in her wedding dress, crying. She was with a man, they got into a black Mercedes and left. What the”
“She wont marry me,” I said flatly. “Her ex is back. Hes more promising.”
Ian opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again.
“Bloody hell” he finally exhaled. “On your wedding day? Seriously?”
“More than seriously,” I said, pacing the room. “We need to tell the guests. Cancel everything.”
“Ill help,” Ian placed a hand on my shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
“I dont know,” I admitted. “It feels like a nightmare.”
Going to the guests was the hardest part of the day announcing the wedding was off, enduring sympathetic glances, whispering behind backs, endless questions. Emilys parents looked as shocked as I did; clearly she hadnt briefed them. My own mother, whod driven up from Cornwall, wept, repeating, How could this happen, love?
When the evening finally ended and the paid banquet sat untouched, I was alone in my room, staring at a point on the wall. My phone buzzed nonstop friends, colleagues, relatives I answered none.
“Here,” Ian, whod stayed, handed me a glass of whisky. “Drink. Itll ease it.”
I took the glass without a word, feeling the burn in my throat but no relief.
“You know whats the worst part?” I said after a long silence. “I always felt she wasnt entirely mine, that somewhere deep down she still held Olivers image. I thought time would wash it away.”
“It happens,” Ian replied, sitting opposite me. “First loves, all that. But to ditch someone on the wedding day thats another level.”
“She always loved grand gestures,” I muttered bitterly. “Remember how we met?”
“At Sarahs birthday,” Ian nodded. “She was sitting there, looking miserable in a black dress, mourning a former boyfriend.”
“And I went over and said”
“Maybe black isnt your colour?” Ian finished, smiling. “I gave her that silly daisy from a pot.”
“She actually smiled for the first time that evening,” I recalled, closing my eyes. “She said then she felt life could go on.”
“And now she leaves you for the same guy she once mourned,” Ian shook his head. “Lifes a cruel joker.”
The night passed without sleep. I lay on the bed, replaying the past four years happy moments, arguments, reconciliations, future plans. Was it all a lie? Or did she truly love me until Oliver reappeared?
In the morning I returned to our rented flat to pack. The moment I opened the door, emptiness hit me. Emily had already been there her favorite figurines were gone, photos removed, her cosmetics vanished.
On the table lay an envelope. Inside, a note and a key to the flat.
“Kevin, Im sorry for everything. Youre a good man and deserve happiness. I must go my own way. Ill collect my things later. E.”
Brief. Dry. No apologies, no explanations. As if four years could be crossed out with a single note.
I sank onto the sofa wed chosen together after countless debates about colour. Emily had insisted on a practical beige; Id wanted a bold blue.
Blue sofas are for bachelors, shed said back then. Were a family.
Family The word now burned.
That day I gathered my belongings and moved in with Ian, who offered me a spare room while I got my life back on track. I took a few days off work; my boss, understanding the situation, approved it. I fell into a numbness that friends and family couldnt lift.
A week later, Sarah the friend whose birthday party had introduced us called.
Kevin, can we meet? I need to talk, she said, tension in her voice.
We met at a small café near Ians flat. Sarah looked both embarrassed and determined.
Ive known Emily since university, she began after a greeting. I feel awkward stepping in, but you should know something.
About her and Oliver? I asked with a bitter smile. Thanks, but I dont need more details.
Its not about them. Its about you, she said, leaning forward. I overheard Emily talking to Oliver before the wedding. They were discussing you.
What did they say? I wasnt sure I wanted the answer.
Oliver asked why shed ever agree to marry me, Sarah paused. She answered, Because youre reliable, steady, predictable. With you its comfortable, but boring.
The word boring struck deeper than any other blow.
And then Oliver said, Hes just an ordinary engineer. Whats there to love? Emily replied, He loves me truly, cares for me. With him I feel like Im behind a stone wall. Oliver laughed and said, A stone wall is fine, but living behind it feels like being trapped. She agreed.
I stared at my coffee, the steam rising like my thoughts. Anger, hurt, shame swirled. Shame that Id been the predictable, the safe choice.
Why are you telling me this? I asked.
Because its not true, Kevin, Sarah said, meeting my eyes. Youre not boring. Youre interesting, thoughtful, funny. With Emily you just dimmed. You became a shadow, afraid to take a step that might upset her.
I remembered how often Id compromised, how Id cancelled trips to the hills because Emily feared for me, how Id stopped meeting friends she didnt like.
Why didnt you tell me earlier? I asked softly.
Would you have listened? she shook her head. You worshipped her like a goddess. She was perfect to you.
Are you saying youre sorry for me? I asked.
No, she said, steady. Im saying you need to know it wasnt you. It was her endless chase for something flashier, something spectacular. Oliver is a fireworks display bright, loud, impressive, then quickly fades.
After that conversation something shifted. I snapped out of the stupor, returned to work, found a new flat, started running in the mornings a habit Id abandoned because Emily disliked me leaving at dawn.
The pain softened over time. Occasionally, in the dead of night, a hollow feeling lingered. I still caught myself thinking, I should tell Emily, when something interesting happened. Yet life went on.
Three months later I saw her in a shopping centre, standing before a jewellery window, eyeing rings. She was still as striking, confident, radiant.
Hello, I said, walking toward her.
She flinched, turned, a rush of emotions playing across her face surprise, embarrassment, something harder to read.
Kevin hi, she forced a smile. How are you?
Better than three months ago, I answered honestly. Are you still picking out rings?
She blushed, looked away.
Yes, Oliver and I next month.
Congratulations, I said, surprised at how genuine it sounded. Hope it all goes through this time.
Kevin, she hesitated, biting her lip. I know it hurts. Im really sorry
No need, I raised a hand, stopping her. Everythings said. I just wanted thank you. I paused, searching for words. Thank you for leaving. If you hadnt, Id still be living someone elses life, losing myself.
She looked puzzled.
For what? she asked.
For not being myself, I said, a small smile forming. Goodbye, Emily. Be happy.
I walked away feeling an unexpected lightness, as if a heavy load had finally been set down.
Later that day my phone rang. The number on the screen was hers.
Hello? I answered, curiosity, not anger, in my voice.
Kevin, can we talk? Emilys voice sounded unsteady.
We already spoke today, I reminded her.
No, I mean seriously. I cant stop thinking about what you said about living someone elses life, about losing myself.
Whats there to think about? I shrugged, though she could not see me. I meant exactly what I said.
Were you unhappy with me? she asked, a hint of hurt.
No, I replied honestly. I was happy, but it was happiness that required me to give up part of who I am my desires, my interests, my principles. I squeezed myself into your expectations, became smaller, quieter, more convenient.
Silence lingered. Then she whispered, Did I also lose myself with you?
I dont think so, I said with a grin. You always knew what you wanted and chased it.
Another pause, then:
Kevin, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldnt have
Stop, I cut in. Dont. You made a choice you thought was right, and I accepted it. Theres no turning back.
Why? tears trembled in her voice. If we both made mistakes
Because I no longer want to be a backup plan, I said firmly. I dont want to wonder if youre looking for something brighter, more prosperous.
Youve changed, she observed.
Yes, I agreed. And thats perhaps the only positive outcome of our story. Thanks for calling, Emily, but please dont call again.
I hung up, inhaled deeply. A strange mix of grief and relief washed over me. One chapter closed; another lay ahead, and I would write it myself.
Six months later, on a snowy December afternoon, I stood on the observation deck of a ski resort in the Lake District. I had finally achieved a longheld dream I could ski. The sun glittered on the slope, and I felt pure happiness.
Beautiful, isnt it? a voice said beside me.
I turned and saw a woman in a brightblue ski jacket, her brown eyes sparkling with gold flecks.
Indeed, I replied, smiling. First time here?
Third, she said, taking off her glove and offering her hand. Anna.
Kevin, I shook it. So youre a pro?
More like a stubborn enthusiast, she laughed. I fall a lot but always get up. You?
Just a beginner, living a longdeferred dream, I said, watching the skiers glide down. You know, there are things you keep putting off, thinking maybe someday. Then you realize, if not now, maybe never.
Philosopher, she said, tilting her head. I like people who think about life.
And I like people who can fall and get back up, I answered. Want to tackle the slope together? I promise well make a graceful fall.
Deal, Anna giggled, her laughter echoing over the snow. First one to the café at the bottom buys mulled wine!
She darted down, I followed, feeling my heart fill with pure, untainted joy. For the first time in a long while I was completely, utterly myself. And that feeling was worth every loss and disappointment that had led me here.
Sometimes you have to lose something precious to discover something priceless yourself.
