I remember it as though it were a tale told to the fire on a cold winters night, a story of love, pride and the tangled webs we weave when we think we can control the future.
Oliver Harper married Eleanor Whitby not for love but to wound Margaret Crane, his former sweetheart, and to prove that he could move on after her betrayal. He had been with Margaret for almost two years, loved her with a passion that made him feel he could bend the very heavens to her wishes. He believed the relationship was marching inevitably toward a wedding, yet Eleanors constant dodging of any talk of matrimony irritated him.
For what use is a wedding now? she had said one rainy afternoon while they stood outside the university gates. I havent finished my degree, and you barely have a proper trade, no decent car, no house of your own. And, truth be told, Im not keen on sharing a kitchen with your sister. She often repeated that, If we hadnt sold that old house, we could have lived peacefully without these troubles.
Oliver felt a sting, yet he could not deny the truth in her words. He and his sister, Olivia Harper, still lived in their parents flat in Manchester. His own hardware shop was just finding its footing, and he was still a finalyear student. He had been forced to take over the family business before his diploma, selling the house with Olivias consent to keep their parents affairs afloat. In six months the debts had piled up, and both siblings still needed to study. The sale cleared the liabilities, restocked the shop and even left a modest reserve.
Margaret, on the other hand, lived for the present, believing there was no point in waiting for some imagined tomorrow while the parents bore the burdens. Oliver, suddenly thrust into adulthood, felt the weight of obligations to his sister, his fledgling enterprise and his own household. He clung to the hope that everything would eventually fall into placehouse, car, garden.
Nothing foretold disaster. They agreed to meet at the cinema, and Eleanor asked that he not drive her there, insisting she would manage on her own. Oliver waited at the bus stop when, surprisingly, a sleek black sedan pulled up. Eleanor stepped out, handed him a small notebook, and said, Im sorry, but we cannot be together any longer. Im getting married, before turning back to the car.
Oliver was left speechless. What could have changed in the few days he was away? When he arrived home, Olivia read his expression instantly.
Know already? she asked.
He merely nodded.
Shes gone off with a rich fellow. She asked me to be a witness, and I refused. Shes a traitor, turning behind your back with him Olivias voice quivered.
Oliver pulled her into a hug, rubbing her shoulder. Calm yourself. Let her be happy. Well have it even better.
For a whole day he shut himself in his room. Olivia coaxed him out, Come on, Ive made crumpets.
By evening, his eyes alight with a fierce resolve, he said, Pack your things.
Where to? What are you thinking? Olivia implored.
Ill marry the first woman who says yes, Oliver answered coldly.
No, you cant! Its not just your life, Olivia protested futilely.
You wont go with meI’ll go alone, he snapped.
In the park a crowd milled about. One girl twirled a finger near her temple, another fled frightened, but a third met his gaze and simply said, Alright.
Whats your name, beauty? he asked.
Eleanor, she replied.
An engagement calls for celebration! he declared, whisking Eleanor and Olivia into a nearby tea room.
An awkward silence fell over the table. Olivia had nothing to say, while Olivers thoughts swirled with vengeance. He had already decided that his own wedding would be held on the twentyfifth of the month.
Surely there must be a serious reason you proposed to a stranger, Eleanor ventured, breaking the hush. If its a spurofthemoment thing, I wont be offended and will leave.
No. Youve already given your word. Tomorrow well file the notice and meet your parents.
Oliver winked, First, lets be on a firstname basis.
The month leading up to the ceremony saw them together daily, talking, learning each others habits.
Why this, exactly? Eleanor asked one evening.
Everyone keeps skeletons in their closets, Oliver replied evasively.
The important thing is they dont hinder life.
And why did you agree?
I imagined myself a princess, a king marrying me at first sight. In fairy tales that always ends happily ever after. I wanted to test it myself.
The reality was far from a simple romance. Their great love left a broken heart, a modest loss of savings, but also taught them to read people. Eleanor shunned pretenders from the first glance. She never actively searched for a soulmate, yet she knew she needed a clever, independent man capable of decisive action. In Oliver she saw determination and a serious approach. Had he been surrounded by friends rather than his sister, she might have walked away.
What kind of princess are you then? Oliver asked, eyes thoughtful. The shy one, or the fierce queen?
Give me a kiss and youll find out, she smiled.
No kiss ever followed, nor any deeper intimacy.
Oliver handled all the wedding preparations himself; Eleanor merely chose from his proposals. He even bought the dress and veil.
Youll be the most beautiful, he repeated.
At the registry office, awaiting the solemn civil ceremony, they unexpectedly encountered Margaret and her fiancé. Oliver forced a smile. Allow me to congratulate you, he said, planting a kiss on Margarets cheek. May your purse be ever full!
Dont make a circus of this, Margaret replied nervously.
She examined Olivers new bride: tall, striking, more than just prettyshe carried herself like royalty. Margarets envy gnawed at her, a bitter feeling that she had miscalculated and would never obtain what she thought she deserved.
Oliver turned back to Eleanor. All is well, he said, forced cheerfulness.
Its not too late to stop, Eleanor whispered.
No. We play to the end.
Only as they stood in the registration hall, looking into each others solemn eyes, did Oliver truly comprehend the weight of his actions.
I will make you happy, he declared, believing his words.
Their married life settled into routine. Olivia and Eleanor quickly found common ground, complementing each other. Impulsive Olivia learned to temper her emotions, while Eleanor efficiently managed the household, subtly steering everything.
A skilled accountant, Eleanor organised the finances, and within six months they opened a second store. Soon they assembled teams of craftsmen, expanding from selling building supplies to undertaking full renovations. Profits multiplied.
Eleanor proved herself a shrewd strategist, often presenting ideas that Oliver claimed as his own. Life seemed smooth, yet Oliver missed the dizzying thrill he once felt with Margaret. Everything was measured, predictable, calm. Routine is a drain, like a leaky faucet, he thought. I dont like itthats all there is to say.
Thanks to Eleanors diligence they ventured into building turnkey cottages, constructing their own dream home first. The better the business ran, the more often Oliver recalled Margaret: She could have waited a little longer. She would have seen the car I now drive, the house that is more palace than cottage, he would boast, wondering, What if?
Eleanor saw the torment in his eyes. She longed to be loved, yet she knew the heart could not be forced. Not every fairy tale ends happily, she mused, though the name she bore kept her hopeful.
Olivia warned him, Youll lose more than youll gain, pointing out Margarets page on his phone.
Dont meddle! Oliver snapped.
Olivia shot back, Fool, Eleanor loves you truly and you play games!
Just what I neededa child to tell me what to do, Oliver muttered, the pull toward Margaret growing stronger. He wrote to her.
Margaret complained that her personal life had fallen apart. She had been driven out of the house with nothing, never finished university, never held a steady job, and now lived in a rented flat in a provincial town.
For days Oliver hesitatedwhether to go, whether not to. Circumstances left him alone for a spell, as Eleanor travelled to tend to her ailing grandmother in the village.
At last he set a date, speeding toward her town despite the signs. His heart hammered, imagining what she would say, where they would go.
Reality was harsh.
What a handsome fellow you are, Margaret cooed, throwing herself around his neck.
The smell of unwashed flesh hit him sharply. He stepped back disdainfully.
People are watching, he muttered.
Its all the same to me! she laughed, her cheap perfume and cheap dress betraying a vulgarity he had never noticed before. Shes always been like this. How did I not see it? he thought, watching her gulp cheap beer.
Give me money, Ill pay you back, Margaret purred, licking her lips.
He could not find a way out.
Sorry, I have work, Oliver rose from the table. Will we meet again?
I doubt it, he called to the waiter. The bill, please.
Id like to stay a bit longer, Margaret protested.
The ladys tab is limited to this amount, the waiter replied, sliding a surprisingly large banknote across the table.
Understanding, Oliver nodded and left, racing home at the speed limits edge.
Stupid fool, he cursed himself, Olivia was right! Why did I bother at all? Perhaps it wasnt for nothing.
He never called his wife Eleanor, a sudden thought struck him. I have no one nearer or dearer. He sat there for five minutes, replaying the years since the wedding.
He saw his wifes facebright blue eyes, a hint of mischiefand recalled how she would smile at his arrival, gently ruffling his hair with long, wellkept fingers.
I promised to make her happy, he whispered, starting the car and turning onto the country lane.
A week is too long. I couldnt survive two days without you, he said as Eleanor rushed out of her grandmothers cottage to meet him.
Youre a madman, she laughed through tears.
Eleanor, my love, he whispered into her ear, and together they swayed on the brink of happiness.
