Waiting for a Wedding—Got a Divorce

Emma sat alone in the empty flat, staring at the white dress she never got to wear. It hung on the wardrobe door like a ghost of broken dreams, and every time her eyes landed on it, her chest tightened with pain.

“Emma, love, you home?” came the voice of her neighbour, Mrs. Higgins, through the door. “Mind if I come in?”

“Come in,” Emma answered tiredly, not lifting her head.

Mrs. Higgins stepped inside carefully, carrying a plate of scones.

“Baked these yesterday, thought I’d bring some over for our bride-to-be,” she trailed off when she saw Emma’s face. “Oh, love, what’s happened? You look pale as a sheet…”

“Mrs. Higgins, what would you say if I told you there won’t be a wedding?”

The neighbour froze, plate still in hand.

“What do you mean, no wedding? Everything’s ready! The venue’s booked, the guests are invited, your dress is hanging there… Did you and Thomas have a row?”

Emma let out a bitter laugh.

“A row? If that’s what you call him coming home last night and announcing he’s marrying someone else.”

“Good Lord!” Mrs. Higgins dropped into a chair. “How could he? You’ve been together for years, bought this flat, did the renovations… Who is she, this… this…”

“His coworker. Young. Pretty,” Emma shivered. “Says he loves her, and with me? Just staying out of habit.”

“The bloody nerve of him!” Mrs. Higgins erupted. “Forgive my language, love, but there’s no other word for it. Some men these days! Use a woman while she’s young, then toss her aside past forty for some floozy!”

Emma stood and walked to the window. The sun shone outside, people hurried about their lives, and the world kept turning—while hers had stopped.

“You know what hurts the most, Mrs. Higgins? I believed him. All those talks about family, children we’d have after the wedding… He spoke so beautifully, telling me I was forty-two now, time to settle my future.”

“What about the flat? You bought it together, took out the mortgage together!”

“Exactly. Now he wants to sell it and split the money. Very fair, isn’t it?”

Emma sat back down across from her neighbour. Mrs. Higgins silently poured tea from the flask she’d brought.

“Emma, love, remember how he used to court you? Flowers every week, nights at the theatre…”

“I remember. Now I see it wasn’t romance—it was him testing if I’d make a good housemaid.”

“A housemaid?”

“Think about it,” Emma stood, pacing. “The last three years, I did the laundry, cooked, cleaned. He’d come home, flop on the sofa, and I’d serve dinner. Said he was tired from his ‘demanding job’.”

“You’ve got a tough job too, love—nursing at the hospital…”

“He never counted that as work. My wage was smaller, so housework was ‘just natural’. And me, the fool, was thrilled when he finally proposed.”

Mrs. Higgins shook her head.

“Men these days are something else. Back in my time, marriage was for life. Now? See a younger model—toss the old one like yesterday’s rubbish.”

“Know what really burns me?” Emma gripped her tea. “He has the gall to say I ‘stopped growing’, became ‘boring’. When was I supposed to grow? Between twelve-hour shifts, cooking, cleaning, laundry? Day off? Deep clean, grocery haul. When’s time for books or the gym?”

“Oh, love, that’s an old tune,” sighed Mrs. Higgins. “My late husband said the same. I set him straight: want a clever wife? Help at home, then she’ll have time to ‘grow’.”

“And?”

“He learned. Grumbled first, but came round. Twenty-five years we had, happy as can be.”

Emma walked to the wedding dress, fingers brushing the silk.

“I loved him, Mrs. Higgins. Or thought I did. Now I don’t know. Maybe just got used to the idea of him being there.”

“What will you do now?”

“Don’t know. Have to keep living. Call the guests, cancel the venue, try to get deposits back. The dress…” she trailed off.

“Don’t toss the dress, love,” Mrs. Higgins said firmly. “Might still come in handy.”

“At forty-two? Who’d want me at forty-two?”

“Now, now, none of that! You’re lovely, kind, keep a good home. Someone worth their salt’ll see it.”

Emma gave a sad smile.

“Thanks for the kindness. Hard to believe right now.”

Just then, her phone rang. She looked at the screen and frowned.

“Thomas is calling.”

“Answer it, love,” Mrs. Higgins urged. “Might’ve changed his mind?”

“Hello,” Emma said coolly.

“Hey, Emma. Listen, I need to grab my things. Can I stop by tonight?”

“Come by,” she replied flatly. “They’re already packed.”

“Why so frosty? We’re adults—can’t we part civilly?”

“Civilly?” Emma’s blood boiled. “Thomas, is it ‘civil’ to announce a week before the wedding you’re marrying someone else?”

“Emma, I explained—”

“You didn’t explain anything! Just said you’d found a younger model. How honest.”

“Why say it like that? I never meant to hurt you.”

“Not meant to? How’d you think I’d react? Throw a party?”

“Emma, don’t shout. Let’s talk calmly.”

“Calm? Fine. Tell me—why propose if you weren’t sure?”

“I was sure. Then I met Lily, and… it’s different.”

“I see. And what did you feel for me all these years?”

“I respected you, valued—”

“A valued housemaid?”

“Emma, don’t twist it! We had a good life.”

“Good for you, maybe. You came home to a clean house, hot meals. What did I get?”

“What? You lived well—I covered most bills…”

“Oh right, I forgot. I should be grateful you ‘kept’ me. Even though my wages went to shared costs too.”

“I don’t like your tone. I don’t deserve this.”

“Don’t deserve it?” Emma laughed. “Do I deserve being dumped for a girl fifteen years younger?”

“Age isn’t the point. Lily and I… connect.”

“Connect? So with me, what—bored?”

“We… fell into routine. The spark faded.”

“The spark died when I became your maid. Hard to keep romance scrubbing floors after shifts.”

“Emma, no one forced you—”

“Didn’t force me? Who threw fits when I suggested a cleaner? Who said a home ‘needed a woman’s touch’?”

“I thought you liked it…”

“Liked mopping after work? Seriously?”

“Look, let’s not fight. I’ll come at seven, grab my things, and we’re done.”

“Fine. Come.”

She hung up. Mrs. Higgins had listened, outraged.

“The absolute cheek! Makes it your fault? He’s the one leaving!”

“You know what’s strange? Talking to him just now… it didn’t hurt. Anger, yes. Hurt? Gone.”

“That’s good, love. Means the love’s gone too.”

“Maybe it was never there. Maybe I just feared being alone.”

“And now?”

Emma thought.

“I’m scared. But less than before. See, living with someone who doesn’t value you—that loneliness is worse than being alone.”

“Well said, love!”

“I’m thinking—when did Thomas last ask about my day? My worries? Can’t recall.”

“Did you ask his?”

“Every day. He’d talk, I’d listen, comfort, advise. Never went both ways.”

“So you weren’t a wife—just unpaid help with therapist duties.”

“Exactly!” Emma clapped. “You nailed it. I was convenient. In every way.”

“Now he wants passion, not convenience. But passion fades—then what? Hunt a new ‘convenience’?”

“Not my problem now,” Emma stood decisively. “Mrs. Higgins—take the dress. Your granddaughter might use it.”

“Oh, love, it’s too dear—”

“All the more reason it should bring joy. To me? Just a reminder of foolishness.”

“If you’re sure… My Lucy’s engaged. Though she’s slimmer…”

“Alter it. Just hope she marries for love, not like I nearly did.”

“Not for love?”

“What else? I wanted family, children, not dying alone. Love? Maybe. But not enough to forgive this.”

That evening, Thomas arrived. Emma met him in the hallway, handed him two bags.

“That everything?” he asked, peeking insideShe closed the door behind him, finally free to start a life entirely her own.