They’re All Just the Same, Aren’t They?

David, are you serious? Those nasty roses again? Pippa pursed her lips, eyeing the bouquet. I’ve told you a hundred times I love peonies. Peonies, you hear me? Do you even listen to me? What are you listening to?

David froze in the doorway. His cheeks flushed, and his eyes held that guilty, bewildered look, ready to do anything for her smile.

I’m sorry, love, Ill remember. Next time therell be peonies, I promise.

Pippa carelessly set the bunch on the table without even sniffing it. The roses were finefull, burgundy, glistening with tiny drops of water.

…Margaret remembered the first time her daughter brought him home. Tall, broadshouldered, with an open face and calloused handsa civil engineer. David looked at Pippa as if she were the greatest miracle on earth. Edward gave his approving nod behind his wifes back: A solid lad, serious type.

…The first year and a half were smooth. David drove Pippa to the seaside, gave her jewellery on birthdays and for no reason, and patiently listened to endless stories about friends and colleagues. But Margaret began to notice something odd: Pippa started talking about him condescendingly, sometimes with a thinly veiled boredom, even with a hint of contemptDavid brought a cake, can you imagine? Im on a diet. Hes calling again, stuck to me like a leech. She handled his gifts as if they were a tax, not tokens of affection.

In the second year the arguments started. More precisely, Pippa started the rows. She was bored to the bone.

Do you even love me? Huh? Love? she asked regularly, usually in the evening. It doesnt feel right.
Pippa, Ive been at work all day
Exactly! All day somewhere else while Im here alone! Maybe youve found someone else?

David tried to explain, to plead, to swear. Pippa would brood for a day or two, then forgive him graciously. He would bring flowers, the book shed mentioned, theatre tickets. The peace would settleuntil the next spat.

Excuses were everywhere. Said the wrong thing. Looked the wrong way. Forgot to like a picture. Stayed late at the office. Responded too quickly to a textso he must have been glued to his phone instead of working. Too slowlyso he was ignoring her.

Thats it! Its over! The line echoed through their relationship far too often.

Each time David was the first to beg forgiveness. Pippa would hold out a pause of a day, three days, a week, then thaw a little.

One afternoon Margaret asked gently:

Pippa, do you really love him? Or is it just convenient?

The daughter snorted:

Mum, what kind of questions are those? Of course I love him. Hes just a bit of a pest sometimes, Im exhausted.

Five years flew by in that strange dance: passion, scandal, split, reconciliation. Davids temples had started greying before he was thirty. He lost weight, smiled less, but kept on. Why? Margaret could not say. Perhaps hope, perhaps the belief that someday things would settle, become easier and calmer.

In the sixth year he proposed.

…The ring was simplea thin gold band with a modest, clear diamond. David had arranged everything: a table at a nice restaurant, a string quartet, even a handwritten speech he read aloud, blushing.

Pippa said yes as if shed been offered a slice of cake with her coffeenothing remarkable. She slipped the ring on, posted a photo for the socials, phoned her friends.

Margaret hugged her future soninlaw tightly, motherly:

David, Im delighted. Truly delighted.

Edward shook his hand:

Welcome to the family. Officially now.

…Wedding preparations kicked off at once. Pippa took charge: a dress from a boutique, a photographer with celebrity portfolios, live orchids on the tables. David nodded at everything, signed contracts, acquiesced to each whim. He wanted the day perfectfor his future wife.

A month before the set date everything collapsed.

Whats this? Pippa jabbed at the printed menu. Rainbow? You really chose Rainbow?

Its a great kitchen, Pipp. We liked it, remember? David replied. I thought you liked it.

Liked it? I said White Garden with a terrace and a view over the river! And you push some cheap eatery on me!

Theyre fully booked that day. I called; they already have a wedding.

And what? You should have sorted it! Paid extra! And you just just! Pippa sputtered, her anger spilling. Thats it! The weddings off! Ive had enough!

She ripped the menu up and stormed out. The usual script would have played out: shed sit, wait for an apology, David would come, beg, and shed soften after a few days. This time he didnt apologise. He seemed simply tired.

The next morning David came for his things. Pippa watched him gather his razor, chargers, his jacket from the wardrobe.

Are you serious? she could hardly believe it. Youre just walking out? Leaving me?

David zipped his bag, looked at herlong, with an unreadable expression.

Be happy, Pipp. Really

And he left.

…Pippa waited a week, then two. Her phone stayed silent. No messages, no calls, no surprise visits. She opened their chat a few timescursor blinking in an empty fieldbut said nothing. Pride held her back. He always returned first. He always did.

A month passed.

Maybe hes ill? Pippa paced the family kitchen. Or on a business trip? Should I call him?

Margaret quietly stirred the stew.

Mum, say something! Pippa begged. What can I say? You let him gohes gone.

I didnt let him go! I just Margaret faltered.

What?

The daughter fell silent, unable to answer.

Two months later, Pippas colleague Sarah from accounts, by chance at lunch, mentioned:

I saw your David yesterday. With some girl, brighthaired, quite pretty.

Pippa dropped her fork.

Who?!

I dont know. A new face, I think. They were laughing, holding hands It was sweet, almost embarrassing.

That evening Pippa dug through his social media. His profile was publicshed forced him to drop the privacy settings long ago. No new photos, but a new friend appeared: Catherine Solway. A tidy account of landscapes and kittens. The avatar showed a woman about twentyfive with a gentle smile.

Pippa scrolled through her page until three in the morning.

Margaret watched her daughter change. The confidence melted, the cold sarcasm in her eyes softened. Pippa lost weightnot healthilybut became gaunt. Dark circles formed under her eyes. Irritability edged on hysteria.

Its all his fault! Pippa exploded at her parents. Six years! Six years of my life, and he just walks away for some nothingmuch mouse!

You threw him out yourself, Margaret reminded quietly.

Thats different!

How is it different?

Pippa could not explain.

A year slipped by, painful and swift. Pippa monitored Davids life through her phone: him at a barbecue with Catherine; at a concert; a picture captioned Moved in!a shared flat, a joint life. Then a photo of a ring on a delicate finger, captioned I said yes! with three hearts.

Margaret stumbled upon the post while scrolling. Catherine beamed; David stood beside her, smiling as he once did before his joy was drained away drop by drop.

Well done, David, Margaret thought. At last.

Meanwhile Pippa tried new relationships. Ian lasted four months before a birthdayparty argument sent him packing. Simon managed two weeks before fleeing when Pippa staged a scene in a restaurant in front of his colleagues.

All men are the same! Pippa complained to the family table. Unreliable, selfish!

Edward chewed his steak in silence. Margaret poured tea, pondering how odd life could be. Pippa stared at her phone, flicking through strangers happy pictures.

Margaret smiled. She was glad David had escaped Pippas grip. Yes, it was her daughter, but she knew the sort of temperament her child possessed.

At the next family dinner Pippa put on an old record.

At least David was patient. These you cant even say a word without them taking offence!

Maybe its not them? Edward suggested softly.

Dad, what are you on about?

He shrugged.

Just that its the third bloke this year who walks away. Funny coincidence.

Pippa flared:

So its my fault, then?!

The parents stayed quiet. Sometimes silence says more than words.

Later, Margaret thought about how to explain the obvious to her daughter: love isnt a game where you can keep hitting the save button and return to a comfortable moment. Patience isnt endless. Manipulation eats trust away like rust corrodes metal.

And Pippa blamed the world for its unfairness, waiting for a prince on a white horsesomeone who would endure her whims forever.

Margaret dried the last plate, put it away, and glanced through the open doorway at her daughter in the living room, eyes glued to the phone, scrolling through other peoples lives. She knew Pippa had seen pictures of David and Catherine, their smiling faces and loving glances. Margaret herself kept tabs on Davids world.

Thirty years ago Margaret first cradled her tiny daughter and swore to protect her from every hardship. Yet Pippa had condemned herself to loneliness. For her to find happiness, she would have to change, or she would never know what it is like to be a wife and a mother….