Margaret Whitaker gently lifted her daughters wedding dress from the coatrack and smoothed the ivory fabric. A sting of tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. Three months after the lavish celebration her other daughter, Poppy, returned home without a husband, without a smile, and without any faith in happiness.
Mother, can I move back in with you? Poppy asked, her voice trembling as she stood in the doorway with a pair of suitcases.
Without a word, Margaret wrapped her arms around her and helped carry the bags upstairs. The questions could wait; the mother felt something essential had shattered in her only childs life.
Now that Poppy was back at work, Margaret could not escape the bitter memories of how everything had begun so beautifully.
Poppy had met James at a New Years office party. A colleague had invited her so she wouldnt spend the holiday alone. She had hesitated, then finally agreed.
The tall darkhaired man with warm brown eyes caught her attention instantly. He courted her with flowers, arranged romantic outings, and his attentions soon overwhelmed her. Six months later, James knelt in a bustling restaurant and, in front of the entire room, asked:
Poppy, will you be my wife? he said, presenting a velvet box with a ring.
She smiled shyly, a smile she hadnt expected but had sometimes allowed herself to imagine. The room fell silent as she whispered, Yes.
The whirlwind wedding preparations began. James insisted on a grand affair.
Darling, you only get married once, he pleaded. I want everything to be perfect.
Poppy would have preferred something modest, but she yielded to his wishes. He chose an expensive venue, invited dozens of friends and colleagues she had never met.
Margaret recalled a quiet kitchen conversation.
Sweetheart, arent you rushing? she asked gently. Youve barely known each other.
Dont worry, Mum, Poppy replied confidently. Im twentyeight. How long should I wait? James is caring and attentive. I could never find a better man.
Now she returned home with a dim look. What had gone wrong?
James moved into Poppys onebedroom flat immediately after the wedding, claiming it would save money now that his new wife already owned a place.
My love, Im saving for our future home, he told her, kissing her temple. Well endure this cramped space a while longer and then buy something spacious.
Poppy, unwilling to start married life debating finances, agreed. It soon emerged that James had lost his job before the wedding.
Why didnt you tell me? Poppy demanded, having learned the news from a mutual acquaintance.
I didnt want to ruin the wedding mood, James shrugged. Im still hunting for a new position, dont worry.
Weeks passed and James made no progress. He slept late, spent most days at his laptop pretending to send out résumés, and spent evenings with friends. Poppy worked long hours in accounting, leaving early and returning late, and the bulk of household chores fell on her shoulders.
James, could you take a temporary job while you look for something permanent? she suggested carefully.
You want me to be a courier or a laborer? he snapped. I have a degree and experience; I wont devalue myself.
One evening Poppy arrived home early. From the hallway she saw a silhouette in the window. Going up the stairs she heard raised voices. She unlocked her flat and froze on the threshold. A noisy group of friends had gathered inside, empty bottles, snack trays, and loud music filled the room.
Poppy! We were just having a pint with the lads, James grinned, trying to pull her into an embrace. The smell of alcohol clung to him. Poppy glanced at the mess, the dirty dishes, and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door and weeping. What had become of her life?
The next morning, after the guests had left and James slept soundly, Poppy discovered her gold earrings a birthday gift from her parents missing from the jewellery box. She woke James.
Where are my earrings? she demanded.
What earrings? he muttered drowsily.
The gold ones that were in the box.
James winced, sat up, and said, Oh, those I borrowed them to get a shortterm loan from a jeweller friend. I planned to buy them back straight away.
You sold my earrings? she gasped.
I didnt sell them, I pawned them, he snapped. We needed the cash. Ill repay it.
Wheres the money? Poppy pressed.
James turned away. We went to the pub with the guys.
Poppy sank onto a chair. Her husband had squandered family money and even his own jewellery to fund nights out, while she had been saving for a new sofa.
The problems snowballed. It turned out James held hidden loans he never mentioned before the wedding, and Poppy was forced to cover the repayments. He offered endless excuses for his unemployment and began hinting that she should work even harder.
James, this cant go on, Poppy said one night. We need a serious talk.
What about? he replied irritably, still scrolling on his phone.
Our life. I work from dawn till dusk, pay the rent, buy groceries, and you she trailed off.
Say what you will, he snapped, his tone turning threatening.
Youre not making any effort to improve our situation, Poppy finished quietly.
James leapt up, phone clutched in his hand. You think Im a servant for a few pennies? Im not a kitchen maid! he shouted. And Im your husband, for heavens sake!
Their relationship grew ever more strained. Poppy began staying later at work just to spend less time at home. She constantly regretted agreeing to such a rushed marriage.
James grew shorttempered, snapping at the slightest provocation. One night he erupted because she forgot his favourite orange juice.
You never think of me! I asked for a simple juice, is that too much? he roared, pacing the room.
Im exhausted from work, Im sorry, Poppy whispered, feeling a chill run down her spine. She had never seen him so angry.
Everyone ignores my needs! he banged his fist on the table, making Poppy flinch.
A call from his friend broke the tension; his anger melted into a forced smile as he answered, stepping onto the balcony for fresh air.
Days turned into weeks, and Poppy noticed money disappearing faster than usual. One night she checked her bank statement and saw a large withdrawal at a nightclub on a night James claimed to have been at a friends house.
Why are you watching me? James snapped when she confronted him with the record. Cant I relax?
What money are you using to relax? Poppy asked softly.
It doesnt matter, he retorted. Were a family, everything is shared.
Something inside Poppy finally cracked. She realised the James she had fallen for was a façade crafted during the courting phase; the real man was lazy, irresponsible, and possibly deceitful.
The last straw came with her mothers heirloom ring. Margaret had given Poppy a rubyset family ring, kept in a special box for generations. Poppy intended to wear it for her aunts birthday, but when she opened the box it was empty.
Her heart stopped. She rushed to James.
Did you take Mums ring? she asked.
He avoided her gaze, muttering, I needed cash urgently. A friend was in trouble, I couldnt say no. Ill repay it, I promise.
Poppy sank into a chair, understanding at last. There was no friend, no job; James had simply used her, lived off her money, and sold her possessions.
I want a divorce, she whispered.
Jamess face hardened. You cant do that! Im your husband! We vowed to stay together in good times and bad!
Bad times were plenty, Poppy replied, a bitter smile forming. I never got the good ones.
Youll regret this! he threatened.
Fear tightened around her. That night, while James was out with his mates, Poppy packed the essentials and drove to her parents house. There she broke down, telling Margaret everything about the brief, disastrous marriage.
I was wrong, Mum! Why didnt I listen when you warned me not to rush? she sobbed.
Margaret stroked her hair and said gently, Itll be alright, love. Youll find happiness again, I promise.
A week later, when Poppy returned to collect the remaining items, she found the flat overturned. Appliances, jewellery, even some clothing were gone. James had taken everything that could be sold and vanished.
Poppy dropped to the floor amid the wreckage and, strangely, laugheda bitter, raw laugh. Her marriage lay in ruins, as did her home.
A month passed. Poppy filed for divorce; James never appeared in court, rumored to have moved to another city. She now had to repay the loans he had secured in her name, forged signatures and all.
Margaret carefully folded the wedding dress back into the wardrobe. Perhaps one day Poppy would wear a white gown again, meeting a worthy partner. For now it served as a reminder of a mistake not to repeat.
That evening, after Poppy returned from work, Margaret brewed tea and said, You know, love, a wedding is just one day. True happiness is built over years, with someone who deserves it.
Poppy managed a faint smile. I understand now, Mum. Its better to be alone than with someone who makes you miserable.
Each day Poppy took small steps toward a new life. She took a second job to clear the debts faster, enrolled in a professional development course, and spent weekends in the park or with friends she had neglected during her marriage.
One afternoon she browsed old photographs and found the wedding pictures. In one, she stood beaming in her white dress, bouquet in hand, James smiling beside her. She stared at it a long moment, then tore the photo in two.
The act symbolised the breaking of the illusion that happiness could be handed to you like a wedding cake. Real joy is constructed brick by brick, day by day, beginning with yourself.
That night Poppy finally fell asleep with a light heart. She didnt know what the future held, but she resolved never again to live by others expectations or rush into decisions. She would someday build a true, strong, happy familyif destiny allowed.
For now, she was learning to be content alone. Happiness isnt a stamp in a passport or a white dress; its a state of mind that does not depend on marital status. And she was determined to reach that peace, one steady step at a time.
