The Last Marriage
When Clara was 21, she married purely out of societal pressure. She was balancing a part-time job at a bookshop and evening classes at the local university’s economics department. Suddenly, all her school friends seemed to be getting married one after another, their friendship dissolving into domesticity. When the first eligible bachelor appeared—Tom, a charming, well-paid solicitor—she leapt at the chance.
Tom was handsome, bright, and well-off. His mother adored Clara, having raised him alone and longed for her to find happiness. Clara quit her job and focused on managing their newly gifted two-bedroom flat in Islington, which came with subtle hints about grandchildren. She revamped the space, cooked elaborate meals, and spent hours polishing every surface.
But after six months, Clara grew restless. Tom retained all his bachelor habits—weekend pub quizzes, football matches with workmates, and late-night drinks with old friends. He returned home drunk and cheerful, boasting to colleagues about his “lenient” wife who let him “pursue his freedom.” Clara spent weekends alone, daydreaming about companionship.
Her second chance came while jogging near Regent’s Park. She spotted a man with a book, looking like someone from a Dickens novel. His name was Edward, a mature student studying history. He was kind, witty, and strikingly handsome. They met in the park, bonded over literature, and within months, Edward proposed. Clara left Tom, surprising everyone.
They couldn’t afford a flat, so Clara moved back in with her mother, while Edward stayed with his sister. They settled into a renovated cottage in the Cotswolds. Clara worked as a personal assistant, commuting for over an hour each way. Edward, between jobs, started bartending but soon lost interest. When he was made redundant, he worried about how to provide, and Clara married him quickly after she discovered she was pregnant.
Clara finished her degree and became a bank manager. They bought a starter home in Brighton, funded partly by her mother’s £5,000 loan. Edward took a part-time sales role, but after their son Leo was born, he again chose to stay home. Clara managed the family finances alone while Edward, ever the intellectual, fell into a cycle of Netflix binges and self-pity. When he refused to seek proper work, Clara relocated to a flat in Hove, and Edward returned to his sister’s permanently.
By 35, Clara was done with marriage. At their 15th school reunion, though, none of that mattered. The reunion was held at a bustling café in South London. Clara, now in a tailored coat and knee-length skirt, arrived to hugs from old classmates.
Max, a lanky, good-looking childhood friend with a ministerial job in the education department, hadn’t changed much. They’d been desk partners, best friends, and avoided romantic tension for years—until now. Max, recently divorced after a brief marriage to a rising actress, had never felt at ease with clingy relationships. But Clara was different.
They reminisced about school days, shared stories about their children, and danced the twist when the music played. After the café closed, Max insisted they skip the after-party and took Clara home. Over coffee, he blurted, “Clara, do I stand a chance at becoming your final husband?”
She grinned. “If your final husband can cook dinner without burning anything?”
By spring, they were married. At the small chapel in Croydon, classmates and teachers stood in rows, smiling. Clara’s dress was vintage lace, her veil pinned with pearls. Max’s final marriage wasn’t just a union—it was a storybook ending, written years after the worst chapters.