The server crashed, and we spent half a day waiting for the techs to coax it back to life. The order almost fell through can you imagine the loss that would have meant?
Mabel caught herself, yet again, halflistening to Andrew as he droned on about the latest project. They were perched in a café opposite her office, his hands fidgeting with a napkin while she wondered how, after six months together, she still hadnt met his family.
She was thirty, the age when romance feels tired and certainty feels urgent. Andrew was a solid sort diligent, attentive, dependable. A month earlier he had proposed in the same little café where they first met. Mabel said yes, but a nervous knot settled deep inside.
Whenever she tried to bring up his parents, Andrew would slip away. Hed turn the conversation to the weather, or claim an urgent call. She chalked it up to shyness perhaps he was embarrassed about his modest upbringing, or simply unused to sharing personal details.
Do tell me when Ill finally meet your parents, Mabel said, pushing her cooling coffee aside.
Andrews grip on the napkin tightened into a crumpled ball. He looked up at his bridetobe, a flicker of unease flashing in his eyes.
This weekend, well go, he said after a pause.
Joy burst through Mabels chest, washing away every doubt. She could already picture stepping into Andrews family home, his mother hugging her, calling her dear, and the three of them sipping tea with scones at a long table.
The days before the weekend were spent hunting for the perfect presents. She wandered three shopping centres, eventually buying a luxurious silk shawl from a boutique on Bond Street and a bottle of French perfume for Andrews mother. For his father she selected a sturdy Stanley toolbox that any man would covet. For his sister she found a sleek Burberry handbag that Mabel herself had coveted for ages.
On Saturday morning Mabel rose at six, eager to stay ahead of time. Shower, hair, a light touch of makeup. She slipped into a tasteful beige kneelength dress and classic heels the sort of look a future daughterinlaw should wear. She twirled before the mirror, judged the result, and declared it flawless.
Andrew slipped into the car in silence. Mabel turned the key, rolled onto the A6, and the radio whispered a melancholy ballad as roadside cafés and petrol stations flickered past. She smiled, dreaming of the meeting, while Andrew kept his jaw tight.
You look glum, Mabel asked, glancing at him. Nervous?
Just, Andrew clenched his fists on his knees. Dont worry if something goes wrong, alright?
She furrowed her brow and shifted gears.
What do you mean goes wrong? What could possibly go wrong?
Theyre particular, he muttered, staring out the window. Just keep that in mind.
She wanted to press on, but the GPS announced a left turn. The village they approached was tiny a dozen or so houses stretched along a single lane. The road wound between crooked fences and overgrown gardens, finally stopping at an old timber cottage with peeling paint on its shutters.
Mabel turned the engine off and stepped out. The yard was untended grass grew where it pleased, a heap of firewood slumped in a corner, and rusty tools lay scattered by the shed. She forced a smile; wealth mattered less than people.
On the porch three figures awaited: an elderly woman in a faded housecoat, a man in a stretchedout Tshirt, and a twentysomething daughter with a scowl.
Ah, youve arrived, said Andrews mother, appraising Mabel with a thin smile.
Mabel stepped forward, extending her hand. Good afternoon. Its a pleasure to finally meet you.
The mother shook it halfheartedly, the father merely nodded, and the sister crossed her arms, eyes narrowed, and said nothing.
Mabel turned back to the car to retrieve the gift bags. She lifted the boot, leaned in, and a sudden, loud hissing filled the air.
From behind the cottage burst a massive white goose, the size of a small dog, its neck long and twisted, eyes glittering with malice. It charged straight at Mabel, wings unfurling, beak wide open.
What the Mabel leapt aside, dropping the perfume bag.
The goose did not pause. It swooped with a fury she had never imagined a domestic bird could muster. Its wings struck at her legs, its beak nipped sharply at her calves. Mabel stumbled, tried to slam the car door, but the bird pursued, relentless.
Andrew! she shouted, dodging another lunge.
Andrew stepped forward hesitantly, when a boisterous laugh erupted behind him loud, rolling, wickedly delighted.
Oh, it didnt pass the test! shrieked Andrews mother, clutching her belly with mirth. Look, look! Gosh has exposed her!
Andrews sister snorted, enjoying the spectacle. A proper woman wouldnt be scared of a goose, she sneered. She whimpers in that fancy dress.
Andrews father pulled out his phone, filming. His face lit up as if this were the best entertainment of the month.
Andrew, do something! Mabel pleaded, twisting away as the goose hammered at her again, pecking her shins, beating her thighs with its wings.
Andrew moved forward, waving his arms at the bird. For a heartbeat the goose hesitated, then Andrews mother barked, Dont interfere! Let Gosh sort it out! He sniffs out bad people!
Andrew froze, eyes flicking between his mother and Mabel, then stepped back obediently, retreating toward the porch where his family stood.
Mabel pressed her back against the car, cornered by the aggressive goose. Her dress was stained, her heels slipped on the uneven grass, crimson marks dotted her calves. She stared at the family mother, sister, father with his phone and a cold dread settled deep inside.
It was no accident. It was a test, a cruel, humiliating trial concocted by Andrews clan to put her in her place. The groom stood by, doing nothing.
With a desperate surge, Mabel dove into the car. The goose battered the window for a few seconds longer before losing interest and strutting away proudly across the yard.
Andrew approached the car, knocked on the window. Mabel lowered it a few centimetres.
Mabel, calm down, please, he hurried. Its just a family tradition. A sort of initiation for brides. Mum always does it.
Mabel stared straight into his eyes. Her fingers clenched the steering wheel, a storm of hurt, anger, and disappointment roiling inside.
There will be no wedding, she whispered, voice thin but firm.
Andrew blinked, as if she hadnt spoken.
What? Mabel, whats that was just a joke
No wedding, she repeated, sliding the wedding band off her finger and pushing it through the tiny gap in the window. Take it.
Youve lost your mind! Andrew tried to open the door, but it was locked. Dont be foolish! Lets talk.
Theres nothing left to say.
She turned the key, the engine purred, the car shuddered. Andrew lingered, clutching the ring, bewildered. Mabel shifted into reverse, pulled away, and the silhouettes of his family lingered on the porch, still laughing.
The first kilometres slipped by on autopilot, the scenery a blur. Her hands trembled on the wheel, her heart thudded in her throat, tears gathered but she brushed them away. She would weep at home; now she just needed to get home.
That evening her phone rang incessantly. Andrew called repeatedly, texted apologies, begged for another chance. She listened without answering. Once she answered, his frantic, guilty voice slipped through, and she hung up immediately.
A week later she blocked his number on every app, erased photos of them together, tossed away trinkets that reminded her of Andrew his old Tshirt, his novel, his coffee mug.
Life settled back into its ordinary rhythm: work, meetups with friends, the gym. She tried not to think about the goose, yet sometimes, drifting off to sleep, she saw its angry eyes and heard the familys cruel laughter echoing in the dark.
A month later a friend mentioned gossip shed heard: Andrew had married a village girl his mother had approved from the start. No geese, no tests.
Mabel listened, feeling a lightness rather than pain. The goose, the family, their savage mockery had shown her the truth before she could have tied her life to theirs. She ran her fingertip over the spot where the ring had been, smiled, and everything finally fell into place.
