25May2025 Diary
Today I stood in the little hallway of the family home, my hands trembling as I lifted the ivory wedding dress of my daughter, Eleanor, from the cedar chest. The fabric was as pristine as the day it was sewn, and a dry warmth rose in my eyes. It has been three months since the grand ceremony at the Hall of Westminster, and my heart still feels the weight of that day. Eleanor returned home not as a radiant bride, but as a woman stripped of a husband, a smile, and belief in any future happiness.
Dad, may I move back in? she asked, voice quivering, a pair of battered suitcases at her feet.
I embraced her without a word, helping her lug the bags upstairs. The questions about her future could wait; something had shattered irreparably in her life, and I could feel it in every fiber of my being.
Now that Eleanor is back at work, I cannot escape the bitter recollections. It all began so perfectly.
She met Oliver Clarke at the companys New Years party in Manchester. A friend had coaxed her to attend so she wouldnt spend the holiday alone. Eleanor had resisted at first, but eventually she went. Oliver, a tall darkhaired engineer with keen brown eyes, swept her off her feet from the moment he entered the room. He courted her with fresh roses, spontaneous getaways, and tender words. Within six months he knelt in a bustling restaurant, presenting a velvet box.
Eleanor, will you be my wife? he asked, his voice earnest.
She blushed, a quiet smile touching her lips. Though she had never imagined such a proposal, a small part of her had always dreamed of it. The room seemed to hold its breath, and she whispered, Yes.
From there, the whirlwind preparation for the wedding began. Oliver insisted on a lavish affair.
My love, a wedding only comes once. I want it to be flawless, he insisted, eyes alight.
Eleanor, who would have preferred something modest, yielded to his wishes. He booked an upscale restaurant in Mayfair, invited a long list of colleagues and friendsmost of whom Eleanor had never met.
I recall the kitchen conversation.
Darling, are you sure? You barely know him, I asked gently.
Dad, Im twentyeight. How long should I wait? Oliver is caring, attentivehes the best partner I could hope for, she replied, eyes shining with optimism.
Now she sits at the kitchen table, her gaze dimmed. What went wrong?
Oliver moved straight into Eleanors onebedroom flat after the wedding, claiming there was no point in paying rent when his wife owned the place.
My dear, Ive started saving for our future home. Well endure this cramped space a while longer and then buy somewhere bigger, he told her, planting a kiss on her temple.
Eleanor, unwilling to let money dominate their early marriage, agreed. Yet, just weeks later she learned that Oliver had lost his job before the ceremony.
Why didnt you tell me? Eleanor demanded, stunned after hearing it from an acquaintance.
I didnt want to ruin the wedding mood, Oliver shrugged. Im actively looking for something new, dont worry.
Weeks turned into months. Oliver stayed up late, claimed he was sending out CVs, spent evenings in pubs with mates, and let most of the household duties fall on Eleanor, who worked long shifts in the accounts department.
Oliver, could you take a temporary job while you search for something permanent? she suggested cautiously.
You think I should be a delivery driver or a mover? he snapped. I have a degree and experience; I wont degrade myself.
One evening Eleanor returned home early. From the stairwell she saw Olivers silhouette in the kitchen window, heard raised voices, and opened the door to a raucous gathering: empty bottles, halfeaten snacks, blaring music.
Eleanor! Weve just been having a few drinks with the lads, Oliver slurred, reaching to hug her. The smell of alcohol clung to him. She glanced at the mess, the dirty dishes, and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door and weeping.
The next morning, after the guests had gone and Oliver slept soundly, Eleanor discovered that her gold earrings a birthday gift from her parentshad vanished from the jewellery box. She woke him.
Where are my earrings? she demanded.
Which earrings? Oliver muttered, halfasleep.
The gold pair that were in the box.
He winced, sitting up.
Ah, those I borrowed them briefly. I needed a small loan from a jeweller friend and planned to repay him straight away.
You sold my earrings? she yelled.
No, I pawned them! We needed cash. I intended to get the money back.
Wheres the money? she pressed.
We were at the pub, he replied, turning away.
Eleanor sank onto a chair, realizing that Oliver had squandered family money, even selling her personal belongings, to fund nights out. She had been saving for a new sofa, and now that dream was shattered.
Soon the truth emerged: Oliver carried sizable debts hed never mentioned. Eleanor ended up paying them, while he offered endless excuses for his unemployment and even hinted that she should work harder.
Oliver, this cant go on, she said one night. We need to talk seriously.
What about? he replied, eyes glued to his phone.
My life, Oliver. Im working from dawn till dusk, covering rent, groceries, while you She faltered.
Finish it, he growled.
You never make an effort to improve our situation, she whispered, the words trembling.
He sprang up, tossing his phone aside.
Do you think I should be reduced to a kitchen maid? he shouted. Do you expect me to earn pennies for you? Im your husband!
After that, the atmosphere grew ever more tense. Eleanor started staying later at work, trying to avoid the house. She began to regret marrying so quickly.
Oliver grew irritable, snapping at her over the smallest things. Once he erupted because she forgot to buy his favourite orange juice.
You never think of me! I only asked for a juice, is that so hard? he roared, pacing the room.
Im exhausted, Im sorry, she replied softly, a chill running down her spine.
He slammed his fist on the table, and the house seemed to shudder. A friend of his called, and his anger vanished in an instant; he smiled, answered the phone, and stepped onto the balcony.
Days turned into weeks, and the money drained faster than ever. One night Eleanor checked the bank app and saw a large sum withdrawn at a nightclub on the same night Oliver claimed to have been at a friends house.
Why are you watching me? he snapped when she confronted him with the statement.
What money are you spending on? she asked quietly.
It doesnt matter. Were a family; everythings shared! he retorted.
Something finally snapped inside Eleanor. She realized the man she had fallen for was a carefully crafted illusion, not the lazy, irresponsible, possibly dishonest person he truly was.
The last straw was the loss of her mothers heirloom ring. Margaret Hughes had given Eleanor a rubyset family ring, a piece passed down through generations of women in our family. Eleanor kept it in a small wooden box. When she prepared for her aunts birthday, she opened the box to find it empty.
Her heart lurched.
Oliver, have you seen Mums ring? she asked, voice shaking.
He avoided eye contact, muttering, I needed cash urgently. A mate fell into trouble, I couldnt say no. Ill pay you back, I promise.
Eleanor sank into a chair, the truth crystal clear. There was no friend, no job search, just a man exploiting her trust, draining her finances, and selling her belongings.
I want a divorce, she said quietly.
Olivers face twisted.
You cant do that! Im your husband! We swore wed stick together through thick and thin!
Enough sorrow, Eleanor replied, a bitter smile forming. I never got any joy.
Youll regret this! he threatened.
Fear clenched her, but that very evening, when Oliver left to meet his mates, she packed the essentials and drove to her parents house. In the kitchen, she broke down, telling Margaret everything about the illfated marriage.
Why didnt I listen to you, Mum? Why did I rush? she sobbed.
Margaret stroked her hair, whispering, Itll be alright, love. Youll find happiness again, I promise.
A week later, when Eleanor mustered the courage to return for the remaining belongings, the flat was a wreck. Appliances, jewellery, even some clothing had vanished. Oliver had taken everything he could sell and vanished.
She dropped onto the floor amidst the chaos, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. Her marriage lay in ruins, the apartment a battlefield.
A month passed. Eleanor filed for divorce. Oliver never appeared in court; rumors said hed fled to Birmingham. She now has to repay the loans he accrued during their marriage, forged with her signature.
Margaret carefully folded the wedding dress back into the cedar chest. Perhaps one day Eleanor will wear a white gown again, meeting a worthy man. For now, that dress remains a reminder of a mistake not to repeat.
That evening, after Eleanor returned from a shift, Margaret brewed a pot of tea and said, You know, love, a wedding is just one day. True happiness is built over years with someone who deserves it.
Eleanor managed a faint smile. I get it now, Mum. Better to be alone than with someone who makes you miserable.
Each day she takes small steps toward a new life: a second job to clear debts, evening classes to upgrade her skills, weekend walks in HydePark with old friends shed left behind.
While scrolling through old photographs, she found a wedding pictureher smiling in a white dress, bouquet in hand, Oliver grinning beside her. She stared at it, then tore it apart.
It was a symbolic act, shredding not only the photo but also the illusion that happiness could be handed to you on a wedding cake. Real joy must be built brick by brick, day by day, beginning with yourself.
That night she finally slept with a light heart. She doesnt know what the future holds, but shes resolved never again to live by others expectations or to make hasty decisions. She still hopes to form a genuine, strong, and happy familyone she builds on her own terms.
Lesson learned: true contentment isnt stamped on a passport or a wedding dress. Its a state of mind nurtured from within, independent of any marital status. I will carry that truth forward, hoping Eleanor does the same.
