The first time I saw it, I assumed it was an oversight. After all, we all have things in our homes—trinkets, decorations, and keepsakes—that we pass by for years, without even realizing it.
But after a gentle intervention from my husband, I realized that several months later I was still there, where I had no right to be.
I’m referring to the photo from my husband’s first wedding day, which sits proudly on a shelf in his parents’ house.
Taken outside a village church in the early 1990s, a slim 24-year-old Mark, with a head full of curls, stands next to his teenage girlfriend, Tina, who is wearing a frothy dress with a garland of delphiniums. in her pretty head.
It’s a photo that really should have been deleted after his divorce ten years ago, and certainly should have been put in a drawer after he met me and we got married in 2018.
But no, there it is. Admittedly, it is no longer in the family’s main gallery of wedding, baptism and graduation photographs above the fireplace. Yet every time I see him perched nearby, this huge hot bubble of fury and indignation wells up in me, knowing the disdain Mark’s parents have for me, through no fault of my own.
Meanwhile, our wedding photo, which Mark deliberately took when we returned from our honeymoon, is now in the gallery. But not in the middle, in the place where “his” image once was, but labeled at the end, as an afterthought.
They should have gone to the trouble of moving them around like a family game of Tetris.
And yes, we look strange up there: a couple in their 50s, not in full wedding attire, but in smart suits, photographed outside City Hall.
That’s where the problem lies. My husband’s parents (both strict Roman Catholics, meaning they don’t agree with divorce) do not consider me their “proper” wife. They much prefer his first wife and have never accepted me as a valid member of their family, and that photo from Mark’s first wedding is a way of expressing their disapproval.
Of course, they would never say this to me or Mark; In reality, addressing problems is not their way. They much prefer the path of silent resentment and passive aggression.
I know I shouldn’t let this bother me, and Mark always begs me to get over it, saying they’re just a couple of 80-year-olds set in their ways, but it still bothers me.
A photo from Sarah Martin’s husband’s first wedding sits proudly on a shelf in her parents’ home (photo taken by models)
A photo from Sarah’s wedding is included in the gallery of family photographs at her in-laws’ house (photo posed by models)
After all, there are a lot of things you don’t know about my husband’s ex-wife. Details that would destroy the image they have of her as the ‘perfect’ young virgin bride, whom her beloved son married ‘the right way’ in the presence of God.
If they knew how promiscuous, deceitful, and disgusting she was during their 18 years of marriage (and how miserable she made their son), I know they would throw that miserable photograph in the trash. More importantly, maybe they would take off the blinders long enough to see how happy I am and how I should be treated accordingly.
My own family is upset by the way my in-laws behave towards me. I am very proud of the way they made Mark so welcome from day one, both him and his children, whom my mother loves like grandchildren. She always greets them with a hug and sends them a gift on their birthdays.
I just received a cheap card, signed “From the whole family.” They don’t even bother to write down their individual names.
But it’s not my place to intervene, and Mark doesn’t want to cause problems and possibly damage the relationship he worked so hard to maintain with his two children. So my fury burns, igniting every time I’m forced to walk past that horrible wedding photo.
I met Mark through my work as a software designer in 2015. I was struck by this charming, kind man who, even from our first conversation, I could tell was emotionally wounded and carrying a lot of baggage.
After drinking too much wine (by his own admission he drank an unhealthy amount), he told me how he took advantage of business trips because they provided a respite from his horrible situation at home.
At that time he was living in a rented apartment, after having moved out of the marital home the previous year, where his ex-wife remained with their two teenage children. They were co-parents, but the kids hated “Dad’s weekends,” she said, because they were away from all their friends, their gadgets and their nice big house, and they had to share a bedroom in their tiny bachelor pad.
It didn’t help that his ex, Tina, was constantly on the phone with them over the weekend, reinforcing the idea that this was something he had to endure, undermining him and putting a wedge between him and the boys, whom he adored.
He saw a message from her that said: ‘Is it really horrible, doll? Do you want me to pick you up? That had almost destroyed him.
We started dating when we were 40 and at first I wasn’t sure I was ready to take on all this drama and heartbreak. I had been happily single for five years since separating from my previous partner. We had never had children and I didn’t feel very safe with children.
But Mark grew up with me. A kind, fun, good-natured soul, before long we were having a lot of fun together. I introduced him to the camps, the festivals and the lovely walks through the valleys. He started drinking less, lost weight and regained some of his confidence.
He introduced me to the boys, who were wary at first (understandably) but soon warmed to me.
Over time, Mark began to open up to me about what had happened in his marriage. They had married young, as was customary in their family, since their parents were traditional and very religious. However, after the children were born, things started to go downhill. Tina had developed a taste for the finer things in life and kept pushing for a bigger house and more expensive vacations, and soon they found themselves in debt.
Mark worked long hours and was delighted when Tina suddenly developed an interest in tennis and signed up with the children (then aged ten and 13) for lessons at the local club. He thought it would be good for him to be interested.
Well, Tina wasn’t just getting help with her forehand; He discovered that she was having an affair with one of the coaches after one of the other parents pulled him aside when he was picking up the kids one night.
He confronted her, she tearfully confessed, but blamed Mark (the fact that she worked long hours, drank too much, and was getting fat) for “making her seek solace” elsewhere.
And, as it later turned out, this was just one of many transgressions. Friends have since come forward to say that Tina had numerous affairs over the years. The tennis coach was the first one he didn’t get his way with.
Sarah’s husband Mark has been welcomed by his parents from day one and they treat their children like grandchildren, greeting them with hugs and sending them gifts on their birthdays.
When, a few months after the bombing, he told his parents that they were separating (he only told them that he and Tina were no longer happy together), they were devastated. His mother, who had always been very stern with her children, told him that marriage was for life and that it was his duty to his family and his faith to make it work. He also told him that he must have been responsible for Tina’s unhappiness.
However, they divorced and the absolute sentence was passed in 2014, but not on the grounds of adultery. Tina asked for this in exchange for not claiming half of Mark’s (generous) pension and he agreed.
He didn’t want the children to be hurt any more than they already were, so he never told them about their mother’s infidelity, and the same was true for their parents.
I was introduced to the rest of the family at a barbecue at their parents’ house in 2016. They were obviously not thrilled to meet me. His mother sneered all afternoon and chose the burntest sausage on the grill for me. Tina’s name casually popped into the conversation with joyous abandon. I remember they mentioned Melbourne. “You and Tina went there, didn’t you, Mark?” said one of them, with a smile. “You had a great time.” That was also when I first saw their wedding photo.
I raged all the way home. Mark kept saying it wasn’t personal and to give him time.
When we bought a house together in 2017, invitations to the housewarming were politely declined, while I heard, through a friend of a friend, that Tina had recently been seen on a night out with one of Mark’s sisters.
For all his good points, Mark is very much a victim of his upbringing and sticks his head in the sand when he hears this sort of thing. He has never brought it up with his family and prefers not to talk about it when I bring it up.
For our wedding, we had both agreed that we wanted a civil ceremony (Mark is very much a lapsed Catholic these days), then we celebrated with a big party in a country pub.
His parents stopped by for a glass of champagne and left. We both breathed a big sigh of relief when they left, although I was a little sad. It seemed like a missed opportunity; This could have been the moment when they finally chose to accept me – and I would have forgiven them – but it never happened.
However, his sisters stayed; We put quite a bit of money behind the bar.
The boys, who were 18 and 21 at the time, had a great time. Watching them have fun on the dance floor with their father made me realize what an excellent and honorable job he had done, maintaining harmony for the common good. I had married a truly decent man.
He hoped they would return home and tell their mother everything.
Today, Mark and I are very happy and I have an excellent relationship with his children, who are lovely young men, both in their early 20s. I never met Tina; She and Mark communicated by text when the children were still young and now they have no contact. I get snippets through the guys; She has had a few boyfriends over the years, but is currently single.
I see Mark’s parents as often as I have to… which isn’t very often.
Christmas is approaching and I know there will be family gatherings that I won’t be able to avoid. I will do my duty while you treat me with cold indifference, while the ghost of your ex-wife lurks in the background… and on the dining room shelf.
And who knows, maybe this will be the year that photography has a little accident after a festive sherry or two… Stranger things have happened.
- Sarah Martin is a pseudonym. The names have been changed.