He wasn’t the prince she imagined…
Lucy met Thomas when he’d just returned from his service in the army. The lad might as well have stepped off the cover of a glossy magazine—tall, athletic, with piercing green eyes and dark, curly hair. Beside him, Lucy seemed plain, though she was pretty enough: fair hair, a slender figure, and a sweet smile. She could hardly believe her luck—out of all their friends, he had chosen her.
“What does he even see in you?” her girlfriends whispered. “Handsome lads like that don’t stay long. He’ll have his fun and be off.”
But Lucy only smiled—she believed in their love. They went to the cinema, danced together, met up with friends. Thomas wasn’t one for grand compliments, but his quiet presence and the way his touch made her head spin were enough. When she first brought him home, her mother—Margaret—frowned. Later, in private, she spoke softly:
“A pretty face is no guarantee of a faithful heart, my dear. Men like that rarely settle. Wait before you rush into marriage—test him. He’s too… polished.”
Lucy was hurt. She trusted Thomas and didn’t want to hear doubts. But her mother’s words lingered, planting a seed of unease.
Gradually, Thomas began to change. First, it was the gym, then the swimming pool, then new friends. Lucy tried to keep up, joining the same clubs, but she felt out of place among the confident, toned women Thomas now looked at with interest. More often than not, she left early, hiding her tears.
“You’re too fragile,” he scoffed once when she caught a cold after swimming. “Better off staying home with your books.”
The words stung, and Lucy remembered her mother’s warning. She could feel him slipping away. Days turned into weeks where he disappeared without a word—no calls, no explanations. Then one day, he simply vanished.
“Still no word?” her mother asked.
“No,” Lucy whispered, turning her face to the wall.
“Up you get!” Margaret ordered. “To the hairdresser’s—now! A fresh cut is the first step to a fresh start. Then we’ll get you a new dress. You’ve always had skill with a needle.”
They bought fabric, Lucy sketched designs, and she tried to move on. Rumours reached her of Thomas’s new conquests, but she held her head high. And when she returned to the dance hall weeks later—transformed, radiant—all eyes turned to her.
One young man, Edward—quiet and unassuming—began to court her. Not a heartthrob, but his eyes held only warmth and sincerity when he looked at her. Within a month, he proposed.
“Now there’s a real man,” Margaret said. “When he loves, he commits. And you?”
“I’ll marry him,” Lucy murmured.
“Do you love him?”
“How could I not? He’s kind, hardworking, loyal. He wants me—just me.”
The wedding was warm, full of laughter. Lucy and Edward started with little—a first stool, a first plate. A year later, a daughter arrived; three years after, a son. A family, a home, happiness.
She never thought of Thomas again, except in passing—when whispers reached her that he’d left his wife, taken up with another woman, and carried on his old ways. Lucy only smiled.
“What was he to me? Just a boyhood fancy. Let him be happy—if he can.”
At home, her children and husband waited. And her mother—wise, loving, the dearest soul she knew. The one who’d once shielded her from true heartbreak. The one who’d guided her to this quiet, steadfast joy.
Mother… stay with me a little longer. Without you, the world feels dimmer.
