So, Is Marriage Really Stronger Than Just Living Together?” – The Men Who Mocked Nadia

“Ah, so a marriage certificate really is stronger than just living together, eh?” The men at the site had teased Nadia with smirks.

“Im not going to the thirty-year reunionIll just end up depressed. Let the ones who go every year deal with it. They dont even notice how much theyve changed,” Nadia snapped into the phone when her only friend, Margaret, rang.

“Whats got you so scared? We saw each other five years ago, and you were fine. Have you put on weight or something?” Margaret sounded puzzled.

“Its not about thatI just dont want to go, Rita, stop pushing!”

Nadia was ready to hang up, hoping Margaret would take the hint and move down her list of calls. But this time, her friend held on with an iron grip.

“Nadia, our numbers are thinning as it is.”

“What, someones kicked the bucket?” Nadias stomach lurched. She might not feel young anymore, but surely their classmates werent dropping like flies yet.

“No, nosome just emigrated. Though we did lose Andrew Bush ages back, twenty-five years now. I told you, remember? He was so young.”

“Anyway, stop making excuses. The whole years gatheringfour groups, but really just thirty people. You finally got your boy married, didnt you? Time to loosen up a bit.”

Margaret prattled on, but Nadias mind wandered back to Andrew Bush. Dark circles under his eyes, a heavy stareeveryone in their group thought he was weak.

Turns out, it was his heart that was weak. He studied hard, dreamed of building a grand suspension bridge in his hometown, but never got the chance. And what had she done with her life?

Fell for Ian, the foreman at the construction site where she worked after graduation. He was on rotation in their town, then went home between shifts.

They were together for yearsIan even called her his wife in front of everyone. Said a civil partnership was the truest proof of love, that people stayed together not because of a piece of paper, but because they wanted to.

Then she found out she was pregnant. And Ian never came back from his leave. Turned out he had three kids and a sick wife. He quit without a word, vanished.

Nadia swallowed her pride. Couldnt demand anything from a man with three children and an ailing spouse.

She left construction before anyone noticed, though one of the lads gave her a parting jab: “So, marriage certificate wins after all, eh?”

She didnt care anymore. Found work at a corner shop near her flat, thanks to a neighbour. Two days a week, even after the baby came.

Her mother agreed to watch little Timthough not without a lecture. “I raised you better than this! Dragged myself through your education, and now look at you!”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Nadia shot back, then immediately regretted it.

They hugged, cried, but what was the point? No going back now.

So when Margaret rang about the five-year reunion, Nadia didnt go.

Theyd all talk families, careers, swap photos. Shed be mopping floors in three placesflats, schools, nurseries. What was there to say?

Or rather, what would they want to hear from her?

Tim was her only joy.

Her mother, once he started school, declared her duty done and fled to her sisters village. “City airs no good for me.”

Then, out of nowhere, luck struck. A part-time engineering job, just as Tim started school. She managed it alleven picking him up after lunch. Other mothers envied her.

A colleague flirted, but she shut it down. No strange men around her son. A father couldnt be replaced, and trouble wasnt welcome.

She excelled, went full-time as Tim grew. But she still felt hollow. Dressed plainly, never dyed her hair. The grey crept in after forty.

She didnt deserve happiness. Not after nearly stealing a father from three children.

No bright clothes, no standing out. No faith in happy endings, not with divorces everywhere.

Tim, though, grew up kind. Spent summers helping his gran and great-aunt in the villagedigging, planting, chopping wood.

Her mother softened. “Lucky you, having such a son.”

So what use was a café reunion thirty years on?

All this flashed through Nadias mind in seconds.

Margarets voice cut in: “So? Next Friday, three oclock. Café opposite the old halls. Come on, give me someone to talk to.”

Something in Margarets tone cracked. Nadia heard herself say, “Alright, Ill come.”

She hung up, instantly regretting it. Stared at the mirror, grabbed the phone to cancelbut the line stayed busy.

Late that night, she pulled out the blue dress Tim bought for his wedding. He and Natasha had practically dragged her shopping.

The dress still fit. She styled her hair, dabbed on lipstickthen wiped it off. Too bold.

The café buzzed when she arrived. Margaret spotted her instantly. “Nadia! You look stunning!”

Margaret had plumped up, but it suited her. They chatted until the music swelledold student hits.

“May I have this dance?”

Nadia looked up. Alex Serov, from the parallel group. Married young, back in third year. Shed fancied him then.

“Youre as lovely as ever,” he said, leading her to the floor.

They danced in silence. Later, he walked her home. “Ive been divorced for years. But if youve got someone waiting”

Next day, they met again. And didnt part.

Natasha helped her pick a wedding dress. Already round with Nadias grandchild.

“Youre beautiful,” Natasha whispered. “Happiness isnt age-restricted.”

At the reception, Nadia caught Alexs eye.

Maybejust maybeshe was allowed this.

She forgave herself. And let happiness in.