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

*”So, a marriage certificate is still stronger than just living together, eh?”* The men taunted Nadine with sly grins.

*”I wont go to the thirty-year reunionIll just get depressed afterward. Let the ones who go every year do it. They dont even notice how much theyve changed,”* Nadine snapped into the phone when her only friend, Margaret, called.

*”Whats got you so scared? How bad could you possibly look?”* Margaret sounded baffled. *”We met up five years ago, and you were fine. Gained weight or something?”*

*”Thats got nothing to do with it! I just dont want to go, Rita, drop it!”*

Nadine was ready to end the call, hoping Margaret would finally understand and move on down her list. But this time, her friend clung with iron stubbornness.

*”Nadine, our ranks are thinning as it is.”*

*”What, someones kicked the bucket?”* Nadine shuddered involuntarily. She wasnt exactly young anymore, but surely not so old that their classmates were dropping like flies.

*”No, nothing like thatjust some have left the country. The only one we lost was Andrew Bush, twenty-five years ago. Still young. Ive told you before.”*

*”So stop making excuses! The whole years gatheringfour groups, but really only thirty people. Didnt you finally marry off your son? Perfect time to let loose a bit.”*

Margaret kept talking, but Nadine was lost in thought, remembering Andrew Bush. He always had dark circles under his eyes and a heavy stare, and the lads in their group thought him weak.

Turns out, Andrew had a weak heart. He studied hard, dreamed of building a grand suspension bridge in his hometownbut never got the chance. And what had *she* done with her life?

Shed fallen for Ian, a construction foreman where she worked after graduation. He was on rotation in their town before heading home.

They dated for ages. Ian even called her his wife in front of everyone, swore civil partnerships were the truest form of loveno certificates, just devotion.

Then she found out she was pregnantjust as Ian failed to return from his next shift. Turned out he had *three* kids and a sick wife. He quit without a word to her.

Nadine couldnt demand anything from a man with three children and an ill spouse.

She left construction before anyone noticed. Though one of the lads joked on her last day: *”See? A marriage certificate *is* stronger than just shacking up.”*

She didnt care anymore. A neighbour from her block got her a job at the corner shop, where she agreed to work two days a week even after the baby came.

Her mother grudgingly agreed to mind little Tim*”If youre daft enough to throw away a good job!”*

*”You raised me this way!”* Nadine finally shouted when her mother pushed too far.

*”I hoped youd at least be sensible! I slaved to put you through university, and look at youstupid girl!”* her mother ranted.

*”Like mother, like daughter. What did you expect?”* Nadine shot backthen instantly regretted it.

They hugged and cried together later, but what was the point? No undoing it now.

So when Margaret called about the five-year reunion, Nadine didnt go.

Theyd all talk families, careers, swap photos, while she scrubbed floors in three placesblocks of flats, the school, the nursery. What would she even say to them?

Or ratherwhat would *they* say to *her*?

For Tim, shed do anything. He was her only joy.

Especially after her mother, once Tim started nursery, decided her duty was done. She left to stay with her sister in the countryside, claiming the city air made her ill.

Then, out of nowhere, luck struck. Nadine got a part-time engineering jobher actual profession. Tim was in school by then, and she managed everything, even picking him up after lunch club. Other mothers envied her.

A colleague tried courting her, but she shut it down fast. *A stranger in her sons home? No. No father-substitutes, no extra problems.*

At work, she thrived. By the time Tim grew up, she was on a full wage, earning decently.

But she never felt whole. Even her clothes were drab, her hair untouchedsilver streaks by forty.

She didnt *deserve* happiness, not after stealing a married man, nearly robbing three children of their father.

No bright clothes, no dye, no attentionor someone might notice her again.

She didnt believe in happy endings anyway. Half the world was divorcedwhy was she any better? Worse, even.

But Tim grew up grateful, untouched by her sacrifices.

He spent summers in the village with Grandma Irene and her sister, helping dig plots, plant potatoes, fetch water. By autumn, hed haul firewood, stack it neat in the shed.

Even her mother admitted now: *”Youre lucky, Nadine. A son like that”*

So what did she need cafés and reunions for?

All these worn-out thoughts flashed through Nadines mind in seconds before Margarets insistent voice cut in:

*”So, you remember? The café opposite the old halls, next Friday at three. Come on, at least *Ill* have someone to talk to. Youll come?”*

Something in Margarets tone wavered. Without knowing why, Nadine agreed.

*”Yes Ill come.”*

Hanging up, she instantly regretted it. She checked the mirror, picked up the phone againshed call back, say it was a mistake.

But Margarets line stayed busy. Nadine felt suddenly ashamed.

Late that evening, she opened the wardrobe and pulled out the blue dress Tim bought for his wedding.

He and Natasha had nagged her into ither daughter-in-law dragged her to the mall, exhausted her with fittings.

The blue dress won in the end. They found shoes, then Natasha took her to a salon for a dye and style.

That was a year ago. Tim and Natasha lived happily apart now.

Her roots had grown out again. Who was there to pretty herself for?

Still, Nadine curled her hair, slipped on the blue dress*still hanging there*and dabbed on lipstick. Wiped it off. *Too bold.*

The café was noisy, packed, when she arrived. Margaret spotted her instantly. *”Nadine! You look *gorgeous*! So glad you came!”*

Margaret had softened with age, but it suited her, made her younger.

They chatted at their table until someone pulled Margaret away. Nadine sipped juice, scanned the room, listened to the music

Someone had dug up their student-era songs. Back when they were young, dreaming of brilliant futures.

*”May I have this dance?”*

A voice cut through the noise. Nadine looked upand recognised him at once.

*Alex Seward.* Parallel class. Married in third yearshed fancied him then, regretted his wedding.

*”Nadine, youre *stunning*. First reunion Ive ever come toI dont know anyone here. But I knew *you* right away.”*

He offered his hand. She took it, ignoring Margarets wide-eyed stare when she returned.

They danced several songs in silence. Then, out of nowhere:

*”Nadine may I walk you home? I should sayIve been divorced years now. But if youve got a husband waiting Ill just see you safe. Its late.”*

Alex walked her home. Next day, they met again.

And after that, they never parted.

Natasha helped pick her wedding dress*”Youre *beautiful*, Nadine Sergeyevna! Tim and I are so happy for you. Happiness isnt just for the young, you know.”*

At the reception, Nadine glanced at her new husband*Alex*and thought, *Maybe maybe now Im allowed.*

For the first time, Nadine forgave herself.

And let herself be happy.