I touched the old oak doors delicately with my shaking hand and stroked the grain with my fingertips. Every single moment of what was about to happen had been planned meticulously, and every single detail was studied and prepared. Each possible eventuality was also precisely calculated. I’d spent so long thinking about this moment that it had occupied my every waking moment for over a year. I kept telling myself I needed to be present and not dwell too much on the past or the future, but there was a level of finality to what I’d agreed to do. Was I making the right decision? I hoped so. I never thought I would find myself here, in this very moment, touching the door to destiny. The choice to open the door or not was seemingly a simple one, although it was the last chance I would get to change the course of my entire life. What would my life look like if I didn’t go through with this? The anxiety hit me like a stinging slap in the face, and my breathing became shallow and laboured.
Remember, breathe.
A familiar hand touched my arm, and I turned to look at him. He was smiling, trying to be reassuring, but it did little to calm my nerves. I reciprocated with a feigned half-smile, and his smile widened in response. I turned back to the door; its indifference to my situation was warmly welcomed. In a moment of impulse, I pushed it slightly, but the door was heavier than I anticipated, and it remained stationary. His hand gripped my arm lightly to get my attention.
“You can do this,” he whispered.
I was on the precipice; those four words were all I needed to spur me into the decision. I pushed the door with conviction, and it creaked open ominously. The man I came here for was waiting for me patiently with his hands clasped together, his back to me, and completely unaware I’d just entered. I took a single, measured step over the threshold, and I was almost knocked off my feet by the dramatic blasts of an organ echoing off the walls. The melody made him turn, and his eyes locked dramatically with mine.
Harry.
His eyes brightened, and the signature cheeky smirk he was famous for spanned his face; it was infectious. I smiled back in an explosion of butterflies and warm blushes. Of course, it was the right decision, and I felt ridiculous for even questioning it for a single moment. I was in love with him, more in love than I had ever thought possible. Every anxiety and insecurity instantly evaporated the moment I laid my eyes on him. My stride grew quicker and longer in a subconscious effort to be with him as fast as possible, but the hand on my arm held me back slightly. I turned to its owner, Dad, and he didn’t have to utter a word. He was right. I should slow down and savour every fleeting moment; this would be the first and last time I ever did this.
The church looked exactly how I’d dreamt it would be. Each pew was adorned with bouquets of bright white flowers, each petal leaning into the intense sunshine beaming through the stained-glass windows. I’d dreamt of this moment since I was a little girl, though the identity of the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle had always been a mystery, which made me wonder whether if he really existed at all. But I’d found him, against all odds, and he found me. With each step forward, my anticipation grew, and every fibre of my being wanted to be with him forever. I reached Harry, and he leant in to give me a passionate kiss, but I turned my cheek, and he giggled slightly.
“You look absolutely breathtaking, Ames,” Harry whispered to me as I arrived.
“You don’t scrub up half-bad either,” I smirked.
“John, thank you so much for welcoming me into your family,” Harry said to Dad with a handshake.
My Dad rejected it and plumped for a hug instead, which incited cheers from the rest of the guests. I was so transfixed on Harry that I didn’t even realise they were there. I took my place at the altar, and Harry grasped my hands firmly, still gazing deeply into my eyes. I’d looked into them before, of course, but that day, I could see everything: our past and the future we would eventually build together as man and wife. The celebrant was talking, but we were so enraptured by each other we didn’t hear the words. She tapped me on the shoulder comedically to get my attention, and the rest of the wedding guests burst out in laughter at our blunder.
And the laughter continued heartily.
The flawless day gave way to the perfect evening as the beer and wine flowed freely. Harry effortlessly moved around the room, mingling with the guests. He had this boyish charm that just took everyone he met by surprise. To look at him, you could be forgiven for thinking that Harry was a bit of a rascal, but he was the most loving, caring person I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he was mine forever. Most brides may have been annoyed that their new husband was socializing with guests to this extent on their wedding day, but I was quite content simply admiring him from a distance. Harry caught me looking and shot a smile my way, followed by an awkward grimace aimed at the couple who were talking at him. He gestured over to me and made his escape.
“I’m shattered. They won’t leave me alone!” Harry laughed, slumping on the chair next to mine.
“Me too. Can’t we just ask them to leave? Or is that a bit too much?” I joked.
“I think your new mother-in-law might have something to say about that, Ames.”
“Harry, I’ve actually been counting how many glasses of wine she’s had. The amount she’s knocked back could easily kill a horse.”
“She’s had a lot of practice,” Harry chuckled.
“My feet are killing me,” I said, kicking off my heels, “is it bad I just want to go to bed?”
“Let’s get out of here, then.”
“What?”
“It’s our wedding. Screw it. We can do whatever we like. If you want to get out of here, let’s do it.”
“But the guests—”
“Sod the guests. I need to save my energy for what I have planned anyway,” Harry smirked.
“Oh? And what plans are those?”
“Well, it is customary, after the wedding, for the bride and groom to—” Harry ended his proposition with a suggestive whistle and insinuating wink.
I faked disgust, but truth be told, I could hardly wait either. We both fled out of the room giggling, much to the bewilderment of my new mother-in-law, Yvonne, who probably expected us to beg for her permission to leave. Strangely, or perhaps not, it was one of the most vivid memories I had of our wedding day, his mischievous face as he excitedly led me up the stairs to the honeymoon suite. I had never felt as connected to someone as I did that night. Our very souls had melted into each other, and the emotions of the day built into a crescendo that absolutely blew my mind and body.
I used to think that my wedding day would be the pinnacle of my love for Harry, but it wasn’t. Every day that passed, I felt myself feeling even stronger for him. Harry knew me better than I knew myself; he understood and saw me like nobody else did or anybody else would. It didn’t take much to lure him away from the sleepy seaside village of Filey to my home city of Manchester, much to the dismay of Yvonne. Without wasting time, we rented a small flat in the city centre whilst we searched for the home of our dreams. We quickly found it and moved into a semi-detached house just outside of the city. The house was amazing, and I was so happy. I could hardly conceal my overflowing joy. We loved big city living; just being able to find a shop open past 8 pm was enough for Harry to want to move from Filey. We didn’t even seriously entertain the idea of staying in there. We needed enough distance between us and Yvonne for a start.
Wedded bliss was all I ever wanted, and I’d found the perfect man to share it with. However, Harry wanted some little Harrys running around. Not that I was against the idea in principle, but I’d never planned on having kids. When he asked me if I wanted children in the future, I always responded with a ‘firm maybe.’ Yes, I know, pleasing your partner isn’t the best reason to have offspring, but for Harry, it was a deal breaker. I just hoped that the maternal instincts would kick in afterwards and I could become the mother of the children he had always wanted.
We decided to start trying about six months after we got married. It sounds rushed, I know, but I wasn’t getting any younger, and as ridiculous as that may sound, I could hear my biological clock ticking away. However, months and months of constantly trying to conceive ended in failure. Despite the fact that Harry remained positive, I still felt like I was broken inside. Once I realised it would be a lot more difficult to have a baby than we originally anticipated, my apathy turned to obsession, leaving me wanting to conceive more than anything, just to prove that my body was capable. I thought my constant breakdowns would end up perturbing Harry, but luckily, they didn’t. He was so seemingly understanding and supportive; it gave me the resolve to continue trying. If anything, the struggle made me feel even closer to him.
After weeks and months of me crying in the bathroom while gripping a negative pregnancy test, we finally made the decision to get outside help. We went the holistic route at first; we had a cupboard full of herbal remedies and disgusting teas made from God knows what, and most of our evenings consisted of Harry frantically searching for the latest fad to boost our chances of conception. Still, after sustained disappointment, he convinced me to go down the scientific route, and I agreed with him.
After two failed IVF attempts and thousands of pounds later, we were still left with no prospect of a child. We had a follow-up appointment at the IVF clinic to see if the third attempt had finally stuck, and I was pregnant at long last. The doctors had assured us that if there wasn’t a ‘positive outcome’ after three attempts, we would have to start looking at other options. I didn’t think Harry would accept that and he would want to continue trying. What option would we have if not? That appointment was out of the ordinary because Harry wasn’t going to be there with me. He had planned a trip back to Filey, and I would be following him up there the day after. He did offer to rearrange it a number of times, but I insisted he should go without me.
“Not having any breakfast, Ames?” Harry asked, shoving a fistful of toast into his mouth.
“I can’t. I feel sick,” I responded.
“Amelia, whatever happens, we will deal with it,” Harry started, “do you not want to try the old-fashioned way one more time before I leave?”
“Funny. No, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“I didn’t know I had that effect on you.”
“It’s just nerves about today.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to cancel? We can always go up together tomorrow. I don’t mind waiting.”
