Margaret Hughes gently lifted her daughters wedding dress from the wardrobe and smoothed the crisp white fabric. A sting of tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. Poppy had come home only three months after the lavish ceremony, emptyhanded, without a husband, without a smile and without any faith in happiness.
Mum, could I move back in with you? Poppy asked, her voice trembling as she stood on the doorstep of her parents cottage, a couple of suitcases in hand.
I watched Margaret wrap her arms around her daughter and help carry the bags inside. The questions could wait; I could feel something irrevocably broken in my only girls life.
Now that Poppy was back at work, her mother couldnt escape the bitter memories. It had all begun so beautifully.
Poppy had met James Thompson at the companys New Years party. A friend had coaxed her into attending so she wouldnt spend the holiday alone. Shed resisted at first, but finally gave in.
The tall, darkhaired man with warm brown eyes charmed her from the moment their eyes met. He sent flowers, arranged candlelit dinners, and courted her with the kind of devotion that made her heart flutter. Six months later he dropped to one knee in the middle of a bustling restaurant, in front of everyone.
Poppy, will you be my wife? he asked, his voice earnest as he presented a velvet box with a ring.
She smiled shyly, a little surprised shed never truly expected a proposal, though she sometimes allowed herself to dream about it. The room fell silent, waiting for her answer, and she whispered:
Yes.
The whirlwind preparations for the wedding began. James insisted on a grand celebration.
My love, a wedding only comes once in a lifetime. I want everything to be perfect, he urged, eyes bright.
Poppy would have preferred something more modest, but she yielded to his wishes. He chose an expensive venue in central London, invited a plethora of his colleagues and friends most of whom Poppy had never met before.
Margaret sighed, recalling a conversation they’d had in the kitchen.
Darling, arent you rushing? You barely know each other, she had asked gently.
Dont worry, Mum! Im twentyeight. How long can I wait? James is so caring and attentive. I couldnt ask for a better husband, Poppy had replied, brighteyed.
Now she returned home with a hollow gaze. What had gone wrong?
James moved straight into Poppys onebedroom flat after the wedding. He claimed hed been renting a place, but now there was no point in spending money when his young wife already owned a flat.
My love, Ive started saving for our future home. Well endure the cramped space a while longer, then buy something spacious, he said, kissing her temple.
Poppy didnt want to launch their married life with talks of money, so she agreed. It soon emerged, however, that James had lost his job before the wedding.
Why didnt you tell me? Poppy asked, stunned, after hearing it from an acquaintance.
I didnt want to ruin the mood before the ceremony, James shrugged. Im hunting for a new position, dont worry.
Weeks passed and James made no effort to secure work. He rose late, spent most days at his laptop pretending to send out CVs, and evenings out with his mates. Poppy worked in accounts, leaving early and returning late. The bulk of household chores fell on her shoulders.
James, maybe you could take a temporary job while you look for something permanent? she suggested cautiously.
You want me to be a courier or a labourer? he snapped. I have a degree and experience; I wont demean myself.
One afternoon Poppy returned home earlier than usual. From the hallway she saw Jamess silhouette in the window. Upstairs she heard raised voices. She turned the key, opened the door, and froze. A noisy crowd had gathered in her tiny flat empty bottles, chips on the table, blaring music.
Poppy! We were just having a few drinks with the lads, James grinned, reaching for her.
The smell of alcohol hit her. She glanced at the scattered dishes, the mess, and slipped away to the bathroom, closing the door and crying. What was happening to her life?
The next morning, after the guests had gone and James was fast asleep, Poppy discovered her gold earrings a birthday gift from her parents missing from the jewellery box. She woke him.
Where are my earrings? she demanded.
What earrings? he muttered halfasleep.
The gold ones that were in the box.
James winced and sat up.
Ah, those I borrowed them for a moment. I needed a quick loan from a jeweller I know and planned to repay it straight away.
You sold my earrings? Poppy shouted.
No, I pawned them! he snapped. We need the cash! I was going to get it back.
Wheres the money? she pressed.
James turned away.
We were at the pub with the lads.
Poppy sank onto a chair. Her husband had squandered their savings and even sold her personal items to fund a night out, while she had been scrimping for a new sofa.
The problems snowballed. It soon emerged James had several loans hed never mentioned before the wedding, and Poppy was left to pay them. He churned out endless excuses for his unemployment and even hinted that she should be working more.
James, this cant go on, Poppy said one evening. I think we need a serious talk.
What about? he asked irritably, not looking up from his phone.
Our life. I work from dawn till dusk, pay the rent, buy groceries, and you She faltered.
What? Speak up, he growled, his tone threatening.
You never make an effort to improve our situation, she finished quietly.
James sprang up, dropping his phone.
Are you criticizing me over a slice of bread? he shouted. Do you think I should work for pennies? Be humiliated? And you call yourself my wife?
After that, the atmosphere grew even more strained. Poppy began staying later at work just to spend less time at home. She constantly regretted agreeing to such a hasty marriage.
James grew sour and rude, snapping at her over the slightest slip. One night he lost it when she forgot to buy his favourite orange juice.
You never think of me! I only asked for juice, how hard can that be? he roared, pacing the room.
Im exhausted after work, Im sorry, Poppy whispered, a chill running down her spine. Shed never seen him so furious.
Everyone ignores my needs! he banged his fist on the table, making Poppy flinch.
A call from a friend of his instantly softened him; he smiled, answered, and went out onto the balcony.
Days turned into weeks, and the finances drained faster than ever. One evening Poppy checked her bank statement and saw a large sum withdrawn at a nightclub on the night James claimed to be staying over at a friends house.
Why are you monitoring me? James snapped when she confronted him with the record.
What money are you using to relax? she asked softly.
Does it matter? Were a family, everythings shared! he retorted.
Something finally cracked inside Poppy. She realized she had never really known James; shed only loved the image hed crafted during the courting phase. The real James was lazy, irresponsible, perhaps even deceitful.
The last straw was the story of her mothers ring. Margaret had given Poppy a family heirloom a rubyset signet ring passed down through the women of the family kept in a tiny jewellery box. On the day she was to attend her aunts jubilee, she opened the box to find it empty.
Her heart stopped. She rushed to James.
Did you see Mums ring?
He averted his gaze and mumbled, I needed cash fast. A mate got into trouble, I couldnt refuse. Ill repay, I swear.
Poppy sank into a chair, the truth crystal clear. There was no mate, no job, no search. He had been using her, living off her money, pawning her belongings.
I want a divorce, she said quietly.
Jamess face twisted with fury.
You cant do that to me! Im your husband! We swore to stay together in sorrow and joy!
Sorrow was plenty, Poppy said bitterly. I never got any joy.
Youll regret this! his voice threatened.
That night, while James was out with his friends, Poppy packed the essentials and drove to her parents house. In the familiar kitchen, she broke down, recounting the whole disaster to her mother.
I was so foolish, Mum! Why didnt I listen when you warned me not to rush? she sobbed.
Margaret stroked her hair and whispered, Itll be alright, love. Youll find happiness again, I promise.
A week later, when Poppy mustered the courage to return for the remaining things, she found the flat turned upside down. Appliances, jewellery, even some clothing had vanished. James had taken everything he could sell and vanished.
She collapsed onto the floor amidst the wreckage and, oddly, laughed a harsh, bitter laugh. Her marriage had crumbled into ruins, just like the apartment.
A month passed. Poppy filed for divorce. James never appeared in court; rumors said hed fled to Manchester. Poppy was left to repay the loans James had taken in her name by forging her signature.
Margaret carefully folded the wedding dress back into the wardrobe. Perhaps one day Poppy will don a white gown again, meeting a man who truly deserves it. For now, that dress sits as a reminder of a mistake not to repeat.
That evening, after Poppy returned from work, her mother brewed a cup of tea and said, You know, love, a wedding is just one day. Happiness has to be built over years, with someone worthy of it.
Poppy managed a faint smile. I get it now, Mum. Better to be alone than with someone who makes you miserable.
Each day Poppy took small steps toward a new life. She picked up extra shifts to clear the debts, enrolled in a professional development course, and spent weekends strolling in the park or meeting old friends shed neglected during the marriage.
One afternoon, while scrolling through old photos, she came upon the wedding pictures. In one, she stood radiant in a white dress, bouquet in hand, James smiling beside her. She had once believed in a fairytale. She stared at the image, then ripped it up.
It was a symbolic act tearing not just the photograph but the illusion that happiness could be handed to you like a wedding cake. True contentment must be built brick by brick, day by day, starting with yourself.
That night, for the first time in a long while, Poppy fell asleep with a light heart. She didnt know what the future held, but she resolved firmly: never again would she live by others expectations or rush into decisions. She would still have a chance to build a real, solid, happy family someday.
For now, shes learning to be happy on her own. After all, happiness isnt a stamp in a passport or a white dress; its a state of mind that doesnt depend on marital status. And Poppy is walking toward that peace, one sure step at a time.
