I Thought I Found My Forever…

I thought I had married…
While Lillian paid for the shopping, Edward stood idly aside. And when she began packing the bags, he walked right out of the shop. Lillian exited and approached Edward, who was lighting a cigarette just then.
“Edward, take the bags, please,” Lillian requested, holding out two large bags of groceries.
Edward looked at her as though she’d asked him to do something criminal and asked, bewildered, “What’s wrong with you?”
Lillian was flummoxed, utterly at a loss for how to answer that. What did he mean, ‘what’s wrong with you’? Why was he even asking? A gentleman usually offers help. It simply wasn’t right for a woman to struggle with heavy bags while a man walked alongside without a care.
“Edward, they’re heavy,” Lillian replied.
“So?” Edward continued to resist.
He saw she was growing cross, but he refused to carry the bags on principle. He strode off quickly, knowing she couldn’t keep up. “Take the bags? What am I, a servant? Or henpecked? I’m the man! I decide whether to carry bags or not! Fine, let her manage; she won’t perish!” Edward brooded. His mood today was set on putting his wife in her place.
“Edward, where are you going? Take the bags!” Lillian called after him, near tears.
The bags truly were heavy. Edward knew this well; he’d piled most of those groceries into the trolley himself. It wasn’t far home, barely five minutes on foot. But burdened with heavy bags, the road seemed terribly long.
Lillian walked home, close to weeping. She hoped Edward was jesting and would return for her. But no, she watched him grow smaller as he moved further away. She wished she could abandon the bags, yet numbly trudged on.
Reaching the entrance to her building, she sat on the bench, too weary to go further. She longed to cry from hurt and exhaustion but held back the tears – weeping on the street felt shameful. Yet she couldn’t swallow the humiliation – he hadn’t just offended her, he’d insulted her deliberately. And how attentive he’d been before the wedding. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand decency; he did! And he’d acted like this knowingly!
“Hello, Lillian dear!” Mrs. Hardcastle’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Hello, Mrs. Hardcastle,” Lillian responded.
Mrs. Nell Hardcastle, known as Nell, lived downstairs and had been friends with Lillian’s grandmother until she passed. Lillian had known her since childhood, like another grandmother. After Gran’s death, when Lillian faced life’s early hardships, Nell always helped. There was no one else – Lillian’s mother lived miles away in Manchester with her new husband and children, and her father was gone from memory. Gran had been her only family. Now, Nell was.
Lillian resolved without hesitation to give all the groceries to Nell. She hadn’t lugged them for nothing. Mrs. Hardcastle’s pension was modest, and Lillian often treated her to small luxuries.
“Come along, Nell, I’ll see you to your door,” said Lillian, hefting the heavy bags once more.
Up in Nell’s flat, Lillian left the bags, stating they were all hers. Seeing the smoked salmon, Bakewell tarts, tinned peaches, and other luxuries she loved but couldn’t afford, Nell grew so effusively grateful that Lillian felt awkward for not bringing treats more often. After kissing goodbye, Lillian went up to her own flat.
As she entered, her husband came from the kitchen to greet her, mouth still full.
“Where are the bags?” Edward asked, as though nothing were amiss.
“Which bags?” Lillian asked, matching his tone. “The ones you helped me carry?”
“Oh, come now, don’t be like that!” he attempted a joke. “You’re not cross, surely?”
“No,” Lillian answered calmly. “I simply drew my conclusions.”
Edward grew wary. He’d expected shouts, a row, tears, and indignation; this quiet unnerved him.
“And what conclusions did you draw?”
“I haven’t a husband,” she said, then sighed, adding, “I thought I’d married a man, but it appears I wed a fool.”
“I don’t follow,” Edward affected deep offence.
“What’s unclear?” Lillian asked, looking him squarely in the eye. “I want my husband to be a man. You seem to want your wife to be one too. Then,” she added thoughtfully, “you need a husband yourself.”
Edward’s face flushed crimson and his fists clenched, unseen by Lillian, who had already walked into the bedroom to pack his things.
Edward resisted until the last. He didn’t want to leave. He genuinely couldn’t understand how such trifles could wreck a marriage: “Everything was fine! So you carried the bags yourself? What of it?” he fumed as she carelessly tossed his belongings into a holdall.
“You’ll carry your own bag, I trust,” Lillian said sharply, deaf to his protests.
Lillian understood perfectly this was merely the first warning. If she swallowed this insult now, the next acts of dominance would be harsher. So she ended it there, showing him the door.