The wedding had come and gone, yet happiness never arrived.
Margaret Clarke gently pulled the ivory wedding dress from the wardrobe and smoothed the pristine fabric. A sting of tears gathered in her eyes. Blythe had returned home only three months after the lavish ceremony, without a husband, without a smile, and without any belief in joy.
Mum, can I move back in with you? Blythe asked, her voice trembling, standing on the doorstep with a couple of suitcases in hand.
I watched Margaret clasp her daughter and help carry the bags inside. Questions could wait. Something essential in Blythes life had shattered beyond repair.
Now that Blythe was back at work, Margaret could not shake the bitter recollections. It had all started so beautifully.
Blythe had met James Hart at a New Years office party. A friend had coaxed her into attending so she wouldnt spend the holiday alone. Shed resisted at first, but eventually obliged.
The tall darkhaired man with warm brown eyes won her over at first sight. He courted her with flowers, arranged romantic outings, and swept her off her feet. Within six months James got down on one knee in a bustling restaurant, in front of everyone.
Blythe, will you be my wife? he asked, his voice low as he presented a velvet box with a ring.
She blushed and smiled shyly. She hadnt expected a proposal, though she sometimes let herself dream about it. The room fell silent, awaiting her answer, and she whispered, Yes.
The whirlwind preparations began. James insisted on an extravagant celebration.
My love, you only get one wedding in a lifetime. I want everything to be perfect, he urged passionately.
Blythe would have preferred something modest, but she yielded to his wishes. He booked a pricey London restaurant, invited a long list of friends and colleaguesmost of whom Blythe had never met.
I recall Margarets cautious voice in the kitchen that night.
Darling, arent you moving a bit too fast? You barely know each other, she asked gently.
Dont worry, Mum. Im twentyeight. How long should I wait? James is caring and attentive. I couldnt ask for a better husband, Blythe replied, eyes bright with hope.
Now she returned home with a dim look. What had gone wrong?
James moved into Blythes tiny onebedroom flat straight after the wedding. He claimed he had been renting elsewhere, but now there was no point in spending money when his young wife already owned a flat.
My love, Ive started putting away for our future home. Well be cramped for a while, then well buy something spacious, he said, kissing her on the temple.
Blythe didnt want to start married life talking about money, so she agreed. Soon, however, it emerged that James had lost his job before the wedding.
Why didnt you tell me? Blythe asked, stunned after hearing the news from an acquaintance.
I didnt want to ruin the mood before the ceremony, James shrugged. Im still looking for a new position, dont worry.
Weeks passed and James made no effort to secure work. He slept in late, spent most days at his laptop supposedly sending out CVs, and spent evenings out with mates. Blythe worked in accounting, left early and returned late, and the bulk of the household chores fell to her.
James, could you take a temporary job while you keep looking for something permanent? she suggested cautiously.
You want me to be a delivery driver or a labourer? he snapped. I have a degree and experience. I wont demean myself for menial work.
One afternoon Blythe came home early. From the hallway she saw Jamess silhouette in the window. Upstairs, loud voices echoed. She turned the key, opened the door, and froze. A noisy crowd occupied her small flatempty bottles, snacks on the table, blaring music.
Blythe! We were just having a few drinks with the lads, James said, trying to hug her.
The smell of alcohol hung heavily. She glanced at the mess, the dishes, and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door and weeping. What had become of her life?
The next morning, when the guests had left and James was sound asleep, Blythe discovered her gold earringsgift from her parents on her eighteenth birthdaywere missing from their little jewelry box. She woke James.
Where are my earrings? she demanded.
Earrings? he mumbled groggily.
The gold pair that were in the box.
James grimaced and sat up.
Oh, those I borrowed them temporarily. I needed a quick loan from a jeweller friend and intended to buy them back straight away.
You pawned my earrings? Blythe shouted.
No, I pledged them! he retorted. We needed the cash! I was going to repay everything.
Where did the money go? Blythe pressed.
James turned away.
We had a few pints at the pub with the lads.
Blythe sank onto a chair, realizing her husband had squandered family money and even sold her personal belongings to fund a night out. She had been saving for a new sofa.
The problems snowballed. It soon emerged that James held secret loans he never mentioned before the wedding, and Blythe was the one paying them. He offered endless excuses for his unemployment and even hinted that she should work more.
James, this cant go on, Blythe said one evening. We need to talk seriously.
What about? he replied, eyes glued to his phone.
Our life. Im working from dawn till dusk, paying the rent, buying groceries, and you she trailed off.
Say what you will, James snapped, his tone turning threatening.
Youre not making any effort to improve our situation, Blythe finished softly.
James sprang up, tossing his phone aside.
Are you accusing me of stealing a loaf of bread? he roared. Do you think I should work for pennies? Be humiliated? Im your husband, not a servant!
After that heated exchange, the atmosphere grew even tenser. Blythe began staying later at work just to spend less time at home. She kept replaying the mistake of rushing into marriage.
James grew irritable, shouting over the smallest things. One night he erupted when she forgot to buy his favourite orange juice.
You never think of me! I asked for a simple juice, is that too much to remember? he bellowed, pacing the room.
Im exhausted after work, Im sorry, Blythe whispered, a chill running down her spine. Shed never seen him so angry.
Everyone ignores my requests! he slammed his fist on the table, and Blythe flinched.
A call from one of his friends instantly softened him; he smiled, answered, and went out onto the balcony.
Days turned into weeks, and the cash disappeared faster than ever. One evening Blythe checked her bank statement and saw a large sum withdrawn at a nightclub on the night James claimed to be staying with a mate.
Why are you watching me? James snarled when she confronted him with the record.
On what money do you relax? Blythe asked quietly.
It doesnt matter. Were a family, everythings shared, he retorted.
Something finally snapped in Blythes mind. She realised the man shed fallen for was only the persona hed crafted during courting. The real James was lazy, irresponsible, and perhaps dishonest.
The last straw was the story of her mothers ring. Margaret had given Blythe a family rubyset ring, a heirloom passed down through the women of the Clarke line. Blythe kept it in a special box. When she went to attend her aunts birthday, she reached for the ring, opened the box, and found it empty.
Her heart froze. James, have you seen Mums ring? she demanded.
He looked away and muttered, I needed money urgently. A mate fell into trouble, I couldnt say no. Ill pay him back, I promise.
Blythe sank into a chair, the truth clear. No friend existed, no job had ever been found. He had simply used her, lived off her money, and pawned her possessions.
I want a divorce, she whispered.
Jamess face twisted.
You cant do that to me! Im your husband! We swore to stick together in sorrow and in joy!
Sorrow was plenty, Blythe replied, a bitter smile forming. Joy never came.
Youll regret this! he threatened.
Fear spiked, and that very night, after James left to meet his mates, Blythe packed her essentials and fled to her parents house. There, in her childhood home, she broke down, pouring out every detail of the short, disastrous marriage.
Mum, I was wrong! Why didnt I listen when you warned me not to rush? she sobbed.
Margaret stroked her hair and murmured, Itll be alright, love. Youll find happiness again, I promise.
A week later, when Blythe summoned the courage to return for the remaining belongings, she found the flat turned upside down. Appliances, jewelry, even some clothing had vanished. James had stripped everything of value and vanished.
She sank onto the floor amid the wreckage and, absurdly, laugheda harsh, bitter laugh. Her marriage lay in ruins, just like the room.
A month passed. Blythe filed for divorce. James never showed up at the court hearing; rumors said hed moved to Manchester. She was left to repay the loans James had taken out in her name, forged signatures and all.
Margaret carefully folded the wedding dress back into the wardrobe. Perhaps one day Blythe will don a white dress again, this time with a worthy man. For now, the dress remains a reminder of a mistake not to repeat.
One evening, after Blythe returned from work, her mother brewed tea and said, You know, love, a wedding is just one day. True happiness is built over years, with someone who deserves it.
Blythe offered a weak smile. I understand now, Mum. Its better to be alone than with someone who makes you miserable.
Each day Blythe 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 with friends shed abandoned during the marriage.
While scrolling through old photos, she stumbled upon the wedding pictures. In one, she stood radiant in her white dress, bouquet in hand, James smiling beside her. She stared at it for a long moment, then tore the photograph in two.
It was a symbolic actshe ripped not only the image but also the illusion that happiness could be handed to you on a wedding cake. Real joy, she learned, is built brick by brick, day by day, starting with yourself.
That night, for the first time in ages, Blythe fell asleep with a light heart. She didnt know what the future held, but she resolved firmly: she would never again live by others expectations or make hasty decisions. There would still be a chance to build a true, solid, happy family.
For now, she was learning to be content 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 Blythe was marching toward that peace, one steady step at a time.
