Claire Are you absolutely certain you want this wedding?
Claire spun round to face her friend, who sat perched at the edge of the bed, thumbing through a wedding magazine as if she were reading a court summons instead of looking at dresses.
Alice, weve talked about this. Over and over.
And here comes one more time. For luck.
Claire went to the mirror, smoothing down her hair just to give her hands something to do. This conversation was starting to grate. She was thirty-five. And in the last five years, James was the only man who hadnt disappeared after three dates, invented a sudden posting in Aberdeen, or turned out to still pine for his ex.
I am getting married, Claire said, voice firm as she met her own gaze. Full stop.
Alice set the magazine aside, crossing her legs in a way Claire knew all too well. Her friend was settling in for a marathon conversation, the sort that always left Claire feeling wrung out.
I just want you to be honest with yourself, Claire. Are you marrying because you love him? Or because your mother asks every month when shell finally see grandchildren?
Something twisted sharply inside. Claire remembered the last Sunday roast at home. Aunt Barbara and her, Time is ticking, darling, cousin Sophie with her two toddlers and that knowing smile, Mum sighing into her sherry when babies were mentioned.
Thats not the point, Claire turned away, voice clipped. James is a good man. He asked me. None of the others even came close.
A good man? Alice raised an eyebrow. Thats how youd describe a neighbour who feeds the cat when youre away, not a husband.
Claire bit back a retort, but Alice was already up and moving closer.
Listen, I saw him last Saturday outside John Lewis. With some blonde. They werent just chatting, Claire. She was holding his handand he didnt seem to mind.
James has loads of colleagues, Claire shrugged, though her heart thudded. Maybe its just work.
Work colleagues dont stroke your cheek, Alice said, shaking her head. Its not the first time Ive seen him with other women around. I told you from the offhes dodgy.
Claire turned away, looking out at the gloomy November sky above London, feeling strangely ashen inside. She didnt want to hear it, didnt want to replay it all in her head. She pictured instead the white dress, the veil, the bouquet. The rings, already paid for, waiting in their velvet box in her drawer.
Youre asking for trouble, Alice said quietly behind her. I dont want to be the one picking up the pieces later.
You wont have to, Claire managed, hoping conviction would be enough. This wedding will happen, no matter what. Thats final.
Alice only sighed and picked up the magazine again, argument spent.
Claires mind slipped to guest lists, restaurant options, the song for their first danceeverything else banished to the back of her consciousness as it should be.
Two weeks to the wedding, Claire repeated like a mantra, striding through the shopping centre looking for shoes to match her dress. In two weeks, things would change. She would have the ring, and Aunt Barbara would finally drop her nagging.
The café on the second floor greeted her with warm cinnamon and softly playing jazz. Claire almost walked past, but a figure in the corner caught her eye. James, sat at a table by the windowand not alone. A stunning redhead in a skin-tight dress was practically glued to his side, his hand settled on her waist as if it belonged there.
Claires feet carried her to them before sense could stop her. Her heart thudded, her throat tight as wire.
James.
He glanced up, fear flickering across his face for the briefest moment before giving way to his easy, charming smile. He casually removed his hand from the redheads waist.
Claire! What a surprise! What are you doing here?
Shopping for shoes, Claire replied, her gaze settling pointedly on the stranger who didnt even attempt to move away from her fiancé. And this is?
This is Nicole. Old friend from university. Havent seen her in ages, so we thought wed catch up.
Nicole shot Claire a sly, appraising smile. Enough to make Claires stomach lurch.
Friend, Claire echoed, hating how pathetic she sounded.
Yes! Uni. Ages ago, James said quickly, now taking Claires hand, steering her away from the table. Ill walk you out. Was leaving anyway.
He tossed Nicole a call you later and led Claire out. The entire way downstairs, he apologised, insisted it was innocent, swore shed got the wrong idea. Claire nodded, desperate to believe him, clinging to hope against the screaming doubt inside her head.
After that day, James was as attentive as a man could be. Calling all hours, sending flowers, taking her out for dinner. The perfect fiancé. Claire convinced herself she must have imagined it.
The wedding, held at a cosy countryside restaurant an hour from London, was neither posh nor modestjust ordinary. Fifty guests, live music, tiered cake. Claire wore her white dress and, for a brief moment as the rings went on, felt almost happy. Their first dance to a slow, dreamy tune passed in a blur.
She had a husband. The thought brought comfort, a sense of peace she hadnt felt in a long time.
Around midnight, Claire slipped away to fix her makeup, winding through the corridor towards the loo. Hand on the door, she heard muffled voices from inside. She pushed it open and froze.
James had a female guesta distant cousin on his side, in a green dresspinned to the wall, his lips on her neck, her fingers tangled in his hair.
Claire didnt say a word, but James sensed her. Turning, he caught her eye. There was no guilt, no shamejust a hint of irritation, like a child caught stealing biscuits.
Claire left without a scene, her legs wooden. She returned to her table, lifted her champagne glass, and took a deep swallow.
The rest of the evening drifted by in a fog. She danced, thanked guests, accepted their gifts. James returned minutes later, sitting beside her, all smilesas if nothing at all had happened. They never spoke of it, playing their roles as happy newlyweds until the last guest stepped out into the cold night.
The car-ride home was silentthe only sound that of streetlights racing pastand Claire found herself staring at her wedding ring, suddenly unbearably heavy on her hand.
At home, they drifted to opposite ends of the flat without a word. No first wedding night, no romance, only silence and the crushing weight of what had happened only hours before.
Claire lay in the darkness, eyes on the ceiling. Her wedding dress hung on the wardrobe door like a ghost of hopes never realised. She didnt cry, though she supposed she ought to. Only an emptiness remainedand slowly inside it, a firmness took shape.
She woke early, long before James roused himself from the sofa, threw on jeans and a jumper, and slipped out the front door, her mind startlingly clear for the first time in years.
At the registry office, Claire spent the morning filling out forms, receiving instructions, and walking back out into the brisk air, clutching a folder of legal papers. The cold felt sharp and full of promise. For the first time, she took a purposeful step.
James met her at the front door, bleary-eyed in yesterdays wine-stained shirt.
Where have you been?
Claire walked past him into the kitchen. She placed the folder on the table, pulled out a copy of the petition, and slid it across to her new husband.
Ive filed for divorce.
James stared blankly at the paper, as if it were written in a language he couldnt recognise. Then his face contorted and he flung the form to the floor.
Are you mad? We havent even been married a day!
I know exactly how long, Claire poured herself a glass of water, her hand steady. And I vividly remember what you were doing at our own wedding, in the loo.
James faltered for a second, then tried indignation.
It was all a misunderstanding. She came on to me.
Of course.
Claire, are you really going to throw all this away? Over one mistake? James stepped closer, trying to grab her hand. She stepped back. Whos going to want you now? Youre thirty-five. Youll end up on your own, some mad cat lady.
Claire set her glass down and looked at himreally looked at this man shed been so desperate to marry, who had seemed her ticket out of loneliness and family interference.
Everyone kept telling me I had to get married. Mum, aunts, everyone at work. They drummed it in, so I started to believe only that could make me happy. That was what a real woman was meant to do. I believed it so much, I shut my eyes to all the warning signs. To Nicole in the café, your constant late nights, random hairs on your shirts. I shut it all out.
James started to protest, but Claire held up her hand.
Im not finished. Within hours of our wedding, you cheated. And I realisedtheres nothing magical about a wedding ring. Nothing that makes it worth being humiliated. All I did was make myself unhappy, trying to live up to other peoples standards.
So what now? James sneered. Going to tell everyone what a dreadful husband I was?
Thats a bonus, actually, Claire smiled for the first time. Now I have the perfect tragic story for the relatives. Ive been married, it didnt work out, it happens. Now maybe theyll leave me alone. And I can finally start living for myself.
A month later, Claire sat in the same café on the second floor of the shopping centre. This time, Alice was opposite, gripping a large latte and grinning widely.
Im so proud of you, Alice leaned back, shaking her head. Youve finally seen sense. I honestly thought youd never let him go.
Claire wrapped her hands around her cappuccino and gazed out at the spot by the window where James had once sat with red-haired Nicole. It was strangethe memory no longer hurt. Just a puzzlement that shed once been so willing to fool herself.
For too long I let everyone else set my path, Claire said, thoughtful. So determined to fit a mould, I nearly lost myself entirely.
And what now? Alice leaned in, eyes bright.
Now, Ill live for myself. No more ticking clocks. No more following someone elses story. Just meand my own life.
The winter sun spilled through the windows, and, for the first time in ages, Claire felt absolutely free.
