Preloved! The word screamed at me from across the road as a banner fluttered above the window of a vintage clothing shop opposite to where I sat drinking coffee— the bitterness of the flat white only added to the sour taste in my mouth. I couldn’t believe the situation I was in after five wonderful years of marriage.
Preloved!
After five years of a loving relationship, I discovered I was married to a screaming banshee. A recent business trip had me away from home much longer than I expected, and it turned out to be far more difficult than I hoped as I searched for a good supplier to restock my shop. The moment I arrived home, an explosion of verbal abuse instead of a happy wife confronted me; it broke my heart, but no amount of sweet-talking could pacify Sabrina.
‘You are a liar and a cheat, Jethro! I’m tired of waiting at home while you fly off around the world. Oh, you say you have to travel for business reasons, but I’m not as dumb as you think I am. Well, enough is enough. I will wait no more. I want out.’
And, just like that, she left.
Preloved!
A marriage needs trust to survive. Hadn’t I video-called her every night to let her know how much I loved her while I sat eating fast food in the bedroom of the bed and breakfast accommodation?
The sun glinted off my wedding ring as I reached for my coffee cup— a reminder that, at least I had something worth selling. After knowing Sabrina for less than six months, I foolishly told my friends I was in love and I wanted to marry her. They said love is blind and quoted the adage: Marry in haste, repent at leisure. Blinded to the point of distraction by Sabrina’s beauty, I failed to see her faults and proved my friends were right.
The rings had cost a small fortune, along with the wedding. Our wedding day had been all about what Sabrina wanted, which should’ve been a red flag to me. Well, at least, the house had been what I wanted; I bought it before I met Sabrina. Still, she had walked away with it, along with the car and our savings— no, the savings that I had put aside to expand the business and to support our dreams. I tugged the ring off my finger and slipped it into my pocket.
A gush of wind raced down the alley, rattling the cables holding up the banner that read, ‘Fifty percent off all preloved clothes.’
‘If only the judge had awarded my now ex just fifty percent of everything, I wouldn’t have such a sour taste left in my mouth,’ I muttered into my coffee cup.
After leaving the courthouse alone, I hurried across the road seeking somewhere to sit and contemplate the worst morning of my life and to escape the gazes and bitter comments from my wife’s entourage.
Preloved!
The fluttering banner outside a vintage shop kept distracting me from my thoughts. Sighing, I wondered why I had wasted so much time and energy trying to keep Sabrina happy rather than focusing on what would make us both happy. Not once did she offer to find a job or help me build the business. For a woman who loved spending a fortune on clothes, with money she hadn’t earned— I was surprised when she showed no interest in my line of work.
Preloved!
Sabrina always said she wouldn’t be seen dead wearing someone else’s cast off and would only wear branded clothing. Lucky for me, she didn’t know how much my business turnover was, because in her eyes, it was as worthless as a charity shop to her. Having made a decision, I set my cold coffee down and stood. Now that I'm preloved, it's the perfect time to sell my vintage clothing business, and make a fresh start.
About the author
Paula R. C. Readman is a prolific writer and has penned six books and over a hundred short stories. She lives in an Essex village with her husband, Russell. Blog: https://colourswordspaper.blog or just Google Paula R C Readman, and something’s bound to pop up.
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