Too Handsome for Happiness
Emma and Daniel crossed paths in the local library—he was searching for a book on football history while she, as usual, lingered among the classics. Daniel looked like he’d stepped off the cover of a glossy magazine: tall, athletic, with dark tousled hair, piercing green eyes, and lashes longer than most girls’. For a moment, Emma froze—he seemed too unreal to notice someone like her.
She wasn’t unattractive—slender, with delicate features, fair hair, and a quiet voice. But beside Daniel, she faded. When they started dating, her friends didn’t hold back.
“Honestly, Em, he’s not the type to settle,” one said. “Men like that don’t stay. He’ll have his fun and move on.”
But Emma was happy. He didn’t shower her with roses or grand declarations, but he was there—walking her home, taking her to the cinema, holding her so fiercely her knees went weak.
The first time she brought him home, her mother’s expression darkened. Margaret, a sharp and thoughtful woman, pulled her aside after dinner.
“Do you think he’s serious?”
“Yes, Mum. I love him. He’s the one.”
“Emma… A man that handsome belongs to everyone. There will always be others chasing him. And living in jealousy is hell.”
Emma flushed.
“Is this because of Dad? Don’t judge every man by him! Daniel’s different.”
“Just be sure. Real love lasts.”
She nodded but never doubted him. They kept seeing each other, but over time, Daniel vanished—gym sessions, nights out with mates, football matches. Determined to stay close, Emma joined him, though she hated it.
At the pool, his gaze lingered on girls in bold swimsuits; at the bar, he laughed off flirtation like it was nothing. And she… she became invisible. After one training session, she came down with a cold.
“You’re hopeless,” he smirked. “This isn’t your scene.”
Her mother’s warnings echoed in her mind. Daniel grew distant; she suffered. His invitations dwindled. Then one day—he vanished. No call, no explanation. Gone as if he’d never existed.
Seeing her wilt, Margaret snapped into action.
“Right. Hairdresser. Then fabric—you need a new dress.”
Emma didn’t argue. A fresh cut, a handmade frock, and she stepped out again. At a village dance, she was noticed. Men chatted her up—one in particular, Thomas, was nothing like Daniel: plain, unassuming, but with kind eyes. A month later, he proposed.
“Do you love him?” her mother asked.
“He’s the only one who looks only at me. Isn’t that love?”
The wedding was simple but warm. A daughter came within a year, a son three years later. And Emma? She found real happiness. A home, children, a husband who cherished her.
Sometimes Daniel’s name floated up in gossip. Friends whispered he’d left his wife for another woman, that he was still the same—beautiful but hollow. Emma just shook her head.
“To each their own. What matters is finding someone who’s with you, not just for themselves.”
At home, familiar voices, hands, and eyes awaited her. And Mum. The same wise woman who’d once saved her from a pretty disaster.
