Dawn broke at half five when Emily stirred, reality hitting hard – her wedding day. Weak light filtered through thick curtains while down the hall, Mum already clattered breakfast crockery. The day she’d awaited for eighteen long months was finally here.
“Emily, darling! Up you get, beautiful!” Mum popped her head around the door, hair in rollers under a headscarf, wearing her worn dressing gown. “Your big day! Sleep well? Bit nervous?”
“Slept fine,” Emily lied, having tossed all night worrying about one thing or another. “What’s for breakfast? Maybe just tea?”
“Absolutely not!” Mum, Dorothy Evans, waved her hands dismissively. “Big day like this needs a proper breakfast! I’ve made porridge with raisins, like you love. Got some proper cheddar too. Eat up now, love, nerves’ll ruin your appetite later.” Mum was right. Emily’s stomach already churned. The registry office appointment was set for eleven, then the reception at the restaurant. Guests, photographer, toastmaster – the full works. David had wanted something small, just family and close mates, but Mum insisted.
“My only daughter gets married once!” Dorothy had announced to anyone who’d listen. “Can’t cut corners on a celebration like this!”
Naturally, the savings came mainly from David’s plumbing wages and Emily’s hairdressing income. They’d scrimped every penny for this, even skipping their annual summer break.
“Em, where’s David staying last night, then?” Mum asked, placing a steaming bowl of porridge on the table. “Not here, surely?”
“At Mark’s place, the best man. Said it’s bad luck, don’t they? Groom seeing the bride before the altar?” Emily stirred the porridge, appetite gone.
“Load of old cobblers, that!” Mum snorted. “Me and your dad – heavens rest him – were together right up to the morning, lived thirty years happy as you please. Yet look at Sheila next door, followed every superstition, and her husband ran off inside a year.”
Emily nodded, but Mum’s words offered no comfort. If anything, her chest tightened. She pictured David, probably having breakfast with his mate, likely nervous too. What was he thinking? Was he as happy as she *ought* to be?
At nine, the knock came for Auntie Carol, the cheery manicurist from down the street, swiftly followed by Sarah from the salon where Emily worked.
“Ready to be the prettiest bride ever?” Sarah laughed, setting out her tools on the dresser. “You’ll knock their socks off!”
“Not too high up, please,” Emily requested. “David always said he likes my hair down.”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Mum cut in. “Your hair needs to be proper fancy for the big day! David can manage.” Sarah got to work, curling and pinning. Emily gazed into the mirror at a stranger – elegant, poised, unfamiliar.
“Where’s the dress, then?” enquired Auntie Carol, focusing on the nails. “Let’s have a look, show us the lovely!”
Mum solemnly brought out the long garment bag. Emily had bought it at the bridal boutique the previous year, right after David proposed. Back then, the pristine lace creation seemed breathtaking.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Auntie Carol gasped. “You’ll look a right princess!”
“Cost a pretty penny, I reckon?” Sarah asked practically.
“Ah well,” Mum sighed. “But my girl’ll be queen for the day.”
Emily stayed quiet. She remembered David that day in the shop: “That simpler one suits you better. Looks more *you*.” Mum had been dead against it. “What would people think? That we found her down the market? No, if there’s a wedding, it’s done properly!” So they bought the elaborate one, all ruffles and lace. David hadn’t argued further, just shrugged.
Half nine, the phone shrilled. Emily jumped – what now?
“Em? You alright?” David’s voice sounded odd, flat. “Getting ready?”
“Yes, Sarah’s doing my hair. You? Slept?”
“Not really. Mark snores like a train.” He paused. “Listen… you still dead set on this? Today, I mean.”
Emily’s heart lurched. “What sort of question? Of course! Changed your mind?”
“No, no! It’s just… nerves. Big step, isn’t it…”
“David, what are you on about? It’s all planned! Guests, the venue…”
“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course. Sorry, love. Pre-wedding jitters. See you at the registry office, darling.” He hung up. Emily stared at the phone. This was new.
“The groom getting cold feet?” Sarah chuckled, still styling. “Common as muck. Lads all get wobbly before the walk, even the brave ones.”
“My John tried to bolt on our day!” Auntie Carol laughed. “Luckily, his brothers dragged him back by his collar. Thanked them ever after.”
Mum nodded, but Emily caught the worry in her eyes.
By ten, Emily was ready. The gown fitted flawlessly, hair perfect, makeup smooth. A magazine-cover bride stared back from the mirror.
“Stunning!” Auntie Carol sighed. “David will be knocked sideways!”
Somehow, the praise brought no joy. She looked at her reflection and wondered if David would recognise her beneath the lace. He’d fallen for the other Emily – the one in jeans and jumpers, wearing a simple braid, laughing at his jokes.
A car horn sounded outside.
“Taxi’s here!” Mum cried. “Time to go!”
The driver carefully helped Emily into the back seat, protecting the dress. Mum chatted nervously during the drive, adjusting the veil: “Don’t fret, love! It’s grand! You love him, he loves you, that’s everything, isn’t it?”
Emily gazed out at familiar streets. When had she last felt truly happy with David? Last autumn maybe, walking in Regent’s Park sharing ice cream and plans for life after the wedding.
“We’ll get a little flat,” David had mused. “Weekends at my parents’ cottage. And a proper trip to Spain, come summer.”
“And kids? Right away or wait?” Emily had asked.
“Whatever comes,” he’d smiled. “Long as we’re together.” It had been so simple then. Now…
The registry office building appeared. Emily spotted familiar figures – guests gathering. Her pulse quickened.
“Here we are!” Mum sounded relieved. “Look at the crowd! Means the world!”
Emily stepped out and saw David immediately. He stood by the entrance in the suit they’d chosen together, smoking. Spotting her, he flicked the cigarette and approached.
“Hello,” he said quietly. “You look lovely.” But his eyes lacked the adoration she craved, distant, as if she were someone else entirely.
“Hello,” she replied. “Nervous?”
“Bit,” he took her arm. “Right then? Time to sign away?”
They climbed the steps under the guests’ gaze. Friends, family, witnesses smiled and chattered, their words muffled, distant.
Inside the solemn ceremony room, the registrar, an older woman in a smart suit, met them.
“Please take your places,” she stated formally. “The ceremony commences now.”
Standing beside David, Emily suddenly couldn’t breathe. The gown’s corset felt tight, her head buzzed.
“David James Miller and Emily Anne Wright,” the registrar began. “Today you chose to join your lives in marriage…”
Emily heard the words as if observing someone else’s life – this ornate bride, this suited groom, the happy faces.
“David James Miller, do you take Emily Anne Wright to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
“I do.” David’s voice was thin.
“Emily Anne Wright, do you take David James Miller to be your lawfully wedded husband…” Emily opened her mouth to say “I do,” but the word stuck. A lump filled her throat, eyes stinging.
“Emily Anne Wright
She gazed at her reflection—free of satin and expectations—as peace settled over her, finding far more courage in this truth than she ever had hidden beneath lace.