A Love Agreement
Victoria was sitting at her old, sturdy kitchen table, which was absolutely drowning in wedding magazines. She was flicking through page after page, eyes wide with excitement as she studied every glossy photo. Her gaze lingered on the smallest touches lacy appliqués, delicate embroidery, those gossamer veils. Shed stop for ages on the pictures of snowy white dresses, picturing herself in each one. There was this warm flutter in her chest she could see it all: walking down the aisle towards her fiancé, everyones eyes on her, her family tearing up with joy
Beautiful she whispered, not looking up from a particularly striking gown with a dreamy full skirt and spaghetti straps. It looked every bit the fairy tale all soft fabric and shimmering satin under studio lights.
But the smile slipped from her lips almost at once. Victoria sighed, set the magazine aside and slowly got to her feet. Padding over to the big gilt-framed mirror, she eyed her reflection carefully. She turned sideways, craning her neck, like she could see herself through someone elses eyes. A familiar doubt started gnawing away that flawless picture in the magazines never quite matched the reality.
Shame. I could never pull that off, she said more firmly this time, like she was forcing herself to accept it. Not with my figure.
She gave herself one more twirl, imagining how shed look lost in a poofy dress. In her mind: a big skirt, stiff bodice, endless layers of tulle She grimaced.
Something simpler, she spoke aloud, like she was debating with a friend. Massive skirts are an outright no. Ill look like a meringue. But I dont want to just blend in either! I mean, you only get married once, right?
She ran a nervous hand through her hair as the tension started to build too many options, too many dazzling ideas, yet still nothing that felt right. Her gaze scanned the mess of magazines all over the table again, hoping for some sudden flash of inspiration on the next page. All she felt was tired and lost.
I really need to talk this through with someone, Victoria mumbled, sinking onto the edge of her seat, Before I lose my mind over all this wedding nonsense.
A sudden bang at the front door shattered the stillness, making Victoria jump. She tore her attention away from the magazines, heart pounding. Who on earth could it be? Only two people had keys: her dad, and Oliver her fiancé. Both were supposed to be busy: her dad had a big meeting in the City, and Oliver mentioned some all-day work conference over breakfast.
She held her breath, listening hard. Nerves prickled along her spine was someone trying to break in? At this time of day she was usually in the salon, with the house empty. That realisation made her pulse race a little faster.
Victoria got up quietly, careful not to make a sound. Her feet carried her to the top of the stairs that led down to the front hallway. From the landing, she had the perfect vantage point. She pressed herself behind the wall and peered through the banisters.
All that tension melted away in an instant. It was Oliver, her Oliver, fumbling with his shoes at the doormat. He flicked them onto the rack without a care, humming some tune to himself.
Oliver? she mouthed in confusion. Why was he home now? Surely he should be at that conference?
She watched him, trying to figure it all out. Was this a surprise visit? And who on earth was he talking to?
Dont worry, darling, just hang in there a little longer, Olivers voice carried up the hallway, soft in a way Victoria had never heard before. She froze. He had never spoken to her like that. Very soon Ill keep my side of the bargain and well be together.
Victoria felt herself go cold inside. Her fingers dug into her palms, just to stop herself making a sound. Whats this about a bargain? And whos he talking to some darling?
How much longer? he continued, and now there was a businesslike frost in his tone. Six months just six more months. The weddings next month, then a few months of playing happy families, his words stuttered a bit, the distaste in his voice barely hidden.
Victoria was reeling. Their wedding only part of some deal?
And after that, what Mr. Jackson decides to do is his business, Oliver went on, now with something like relief. Ill pack my things and leave, once the rest of the money hits my account.
Those words hit like a slap. Victoria staggered back, grabbing on to the doorframe for balance, her mind spinning. He lied. All this time he lied.
She backed away in silence, thoughts in a muddle but with one thing becoming painfully obvious: her dad was involved too. Some business deal, a reward, a six-month scheme The pieces fit together in a sickening way that made her want to scream but her voice was trapped in her chest.
No matter how much it hurt, she needed to hear what came next perhaps thered be something to explain this nightmare.
Oblivious, Oliver settled into an armchair, stretching his legs, still chatting confident the house was empty. He wasnt editing his words at all.
Youre worried, he tsked, shaking his head. You know I only love you! Honestly, Im only putting on this whole farce for your sake. Havent you always wanted a swish flat in the city centre? Designer clothes and jewellery? How else would I afford all that as someones assistant, eh? Just six months! Then we can be together, promise.
No, youll be together much sooner, Victoria said, voice like steel, as she made her way slowly down the stairs, one cautious step at a time, fighting back shakes.
Oliver whipped round at the sound of her voice. His face changed in a second grin gone, eyes wide with terror. He didnt get to finish whatever line he had ready, his phone dropping from his hand to the carpet with a dull thud.
Vic? he breathed, standing up abruptly. Fear and confusion tangled in his voice. What are you on about, love?
He reached for her, hoping maybe to calm her like hed done a hundred times. But Victoria drew back, chin tipped defiantly. There was nothing soft or trusting in her face now just stony, bitter clarity.
Vic she repeated, voice close to breaking, holding all the pain she was fighting to conceal. Do you honestly think Im deaf? Do you think I didnt hear every word?
Victoria stared straight at Oliver, everything in her trembling. She searched his gaze for even a flicker of regret all she found was panic, scrambling for some way out.
This Louise I know her, dont I? Isnt she the same one youve always said was your sister? Her voice was steady, but there was something like ice underneath.
Oliver paled. He snatched for the phone, as if it could rescue him. His hands shook. In his head, everything worked at full speed how to wriggle out, how not to lose out on all that promised money.
Youre mistaken, he finally managed, putting on his calmest face, Whos Louise? I dont know who you mean.
He stepped towards her, tried to take her hand, but Victoria whipped her arm away. That was it for her.
You know exactly what I mean, she bit out, her bitter laugh making Oliver look away in shame. I heard you with my own ears. The way you dripped honey to whoever she is It was disgusting.
She swallowed, steadying her voice. She couldnt let him see how deep the wound went. Every dream, every plan, every happy memory had just cracked and crumbled, leaving her the naive fool in some cheap farce.
Oliver stood there silent, knowing hed totally blown it. He was so certain she wouldnt be home and now it was all unravelling. Admitting the whole truth was the last thing hed ever wanted to do, but what choice did he have? Maybe, just maybe, he could smooth it all over?
Therell be no wedding, Victoria said flatly, her words a cold ending that hit Oliver like icy water. But before I have you out of my house, I want the truth. The whole truth. No more games, no more excuses.
Her voice didnt even wobble, though inside she was as brittle as glass. Arms folded across her chest defensively not crying, just pure, frozen resolve.
You want the truth? he sneered, shrugging away any need for pretences, his mask finally slipping. Fine. Id never have looked at you twice if it wasnt for your dads little offer. It was a business deal, Victoria I play doting fiancé, take you out for posh dinners, give you compliments, and in return? I get a cushy job and a generous bonus. Two salaries, you could call it.
His voice was flat, almost bored, as if he was talking about the weather, not turning her heart to ash. But every sentence hammered in the fact that everything shed believed in was a lie.
All for money? Victoria whispered, her voice barely there, but she forced herself to look him in the eye.
Oh, come off it. You really think someone could fall for you? Oliver actually laughed a mean, snide sound with none of the warmth she thought she knew. When did you last look at yourself? Maybe you should take a proper look now.
Her cheeks burned at those words. Victoria felt the tears prickling, but she held her ground, fingers digging so hard into her palms it hurt she wouldnt fall apart, not now.
For a moment she just stared at him, mind racing to process everything shed just heard. The world seemed to grow dim. All their conversations, all those dates, all the plans for the future it was just a role to play, and she was nothing but a means to an end.
Get out! Victorias voice rang out, stronger than she felt a final, terrible word. Ill send your stuff by courier. Go!
Oliver threw her one last venomous look long and assessing, as if he wanted to fix in his memory this uncertain, trembling, red-eyed woman. There was no remorse in that glance, just cold satisfaction at having walked out from beneath the mask. He slowly headed for the door, pulling on his coat with maybe a touch of drama, as if to show he was completely unbothered. The lock snapped. Victoria was left in crushing silence.
The moment the front door closed, Oliver started to feel sick with worry. His mind leapt straight to Mr. Jackson. Victorias dad was a tough man, not one to forgive or forget and to him, his daughter was everything. Oliver knew hed crossed the wrong man, and the consequences could be bad. What a wretched plan, he scolded himself as he hurried out to the street but then, the thought of all that cash waiting in his account steadied his nerves.
Well, at least it wasnt for nothing, he muttered as he headed off. Doubt theyll ask for it back. I bloody earned it, after all.
Back in the empty flat, Victoria, shaking all over, found her fathers number. Her fingers fumbled the first few times, but finally she got through.
Dad! she half-screamed as soon as Mr. Jackson answered. How could you?! How could you do that to me?!
She didnt let him get a word in. The anger, the hurt, months and months of bitterness tumbled out of her in a messy, breathless rush:
You set the whole thing up! You found him, you paid him, made him play at being in love with me! You didnt even ask what I wanted! You just thought you knew best!
Her voice wavered, but she pressed on:
I trusted you! I thought he I thought he loved me! But it was just a game. You made my whole life a show!
Mr. Jackson tried to say something, but Victoria wasnt listening. She let it all out all the anger, all the disappointment, all the pain.
Never again! Stay out of my private life! Ever, do you hear me?! Never again!
She slammed the call off, chucked her phone onto the sofa and this time, she couldnt hold the tears back. They came fast and hot, and she crumpled up, sobbing. In that moment she felt like a hurt little girl betrayed, abandoned, alone with it all.
But her tears werent only about Oliver. Years of insecurity, doubt, those old, unkind whispers came rushing back. Victoria had always struggled with self-esteem, picking at her own reflection, always finding something to scold. If only I was slimmer If only I looked like the girls in magazines Shed considered surgery at times, imagined a transformation. Every time, though, shed remember her mum and back down.
Her mum Isobel, as she insisted people call her, adding a flourish to even the most trivial things. For Isobel, the name sounded like a melody, a reminder of the woman she wanted to be: elegant, mysterious, captivating. And for a time she really was strikingly beautiful, with stunning features and thick glossy hair, that kind of poise that draws eyes.
That changed the day Isobel put her trust in some miracle surgeon, one all her friends raved about. She only wanted her nose trimmed a tad, that was it. But the doctor botched it badly the results were irreversible. Her face changed, and not at all for the better.
Isobel didnt give up at first. She went from clinic to clinic, spoke to every top surgeon, poured insane amounts of money into one revision after another. Always hoping that just this time it would be fixed and shed be beautiful again. But it just got worse.
The joy drained from her life. At first confidence, then her will to go out at all. Isobel stopped looking in mirrors, hid her face behind wide-brimmed hats and sunglasses. Depression settled over her and didnt lift. Her days blurred together: mornings started with staring bleakly into the mirror, afternoons passed in darkened rooms, evenings lost in endless if only thoughts.
And then, she left. Just disappeared one day. No explanation, no goodbyes. Only a short note to Victorias dad: I cant go on. Im sorry. After that, nothing. No calls, no letters, no trace. She vanished from their lives, leaving Victoria with her father.
Victoria grew up with faded photos of her mum the old Isobel, radiant and smiling. That was the memory she clung to: her mums warm smile, the loving eyes. But in reality, things had been different, and as Victoria got older, the contrast between the mum of the photos and the mum in her memory ached more and more.
Shed started comparing herself to her mum early on. And she never measured up. Mum had such perfect cheekbones, and look at me just chipmunk cheeks, shed think, picking at her own reflection. Her hair was like silk. Mines always a mess. Every feature, Victoria found fault with: too big a nose, lips not full enough, body not slim enough Even when friends said she was sweet, it never rang true. She always felt like a faint shadow of the Isobel who used to be a beauty.
That insecurity bled into everything. She kept a low profile at school, too nervous to stand out. At uni she always tried to avoid being called up to the front terrified people would notice her flaws. Shed had little luck with boys: theyd rarely look her way, and if they did, the interest faded fast. Victoria chalked it up to not being pretty enough.
If only I were beautiful, things would be different, she told herself over and over, never realising this self-doubt was at the root of her loneliness.
Then came Oliver. He burst into her life like a lightning bolt in a storm. He noticed her. He spoke to her as if she was the only person in the world. He gave her not just flattery, but specific, meaningful compliments: her laugh, her kindness, her quick wit. Hed take her to cosy cafes, bring her flowers for no reason, remember all her little preferences.
With him, for the first time in years, Victoria felt beautiful. Not perfect like her mum on those old pictures but good enough. Pretty enough. Loved enough. She opened up, began to believe maybe she deserved happiness. And the more time they spent together, the more sure she felt: this was real, this feeling, this love.
And now it was gone. Olivers words, overheard in secret, shattered her fragile new confidence. Hed never loved her. Hed just been putting on an act for money. The cruelest part: her own father had pulled the strings. The one person shed trusted most
*****
Victoria now found herself in a wedding boutiques fitting room, but something was different instead of thrill, she felt a steady, businesslike calm. The white dress shed picked hugged her figure, draping from the shoulders and flowing out gently below. The fabric swished quietly as she moved, the lace at the sleeves caught the light, dancing with subtle shadows and shimmer.
She carefully took in her own reflection. No longer searching for flaws, no more picking herself apart as shed always done. Today, it was different. Today, she accepted herself just as she was.
An hour later, she was gliding down the aisle, head held high, shoulders back, her step measured and sure. In her eyes was a clear, steady glow not the dreamy haze most brides wore, but something fiercer. She caught people craning necks, whispers making their way down the rows this was no fragile, giggling bride.
The guests stepped aside, beaming, murmuring praise. Victoria nodded politely, but her mind was somewhere else, echoing an old conversation with her father a couple of months before.
Dad, Im going to accept Matthews proposal, shed told him, meeting his gaze.
Her father had practically frozen, mug of tea halfway to his lips.
Sweetheart, are you sure? This is a big step.
Im sure, shed said, voice unwavering. Im tired of waiting for some Hollywood love story that might never happen. I want stability, respect, a real family. Matthew can give me that.
But darling love her father began, but Victoria cut him off.
Love is lovely. But Im tired of waiting for a miracle. I want to make my own life.
So now, as she neared the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle, she repeated those words in her mind. Matthew was there, a bit nervous but meeting her eyes with warmth and sincerity. There was no crazy passion, but there was real affection, real respect and that, Victoria realised, was what she needed most right now.
As the registrar began to speak, Victoria felt absolutely certain shed made the right choice. No, it wasnt that dazzling love story. But it was hers chosen thoughtfully, with all her heart.
Maybe Matthew will never be mad about me, she thought, watching his face. But hell respect me. And who knows perhaps love will come in time.
That thought gave her all the strength she needed. She smiled at Matthew not because she had to for the photos, but for real, pleased with herself and with her decision. Love doesnt always show up like fireworks. Sometimes, its a steady place to stand and maybe thats the best way to build something lasting.
