There I was, clad in a baby blue dress and borrowed Jimmy Choo pumps, counting down the moments till he said ‘I do’ and fighting back tears. Why? He was the one that got away.
There wasn’t anything I could do except sit there like a dazed chicken ready for slaughter waiting for the priest to pronounce them husband and wife much to my dismay. I couldn’t believe he was getting married after he had promised me once upon a time that he would be my ‘ I do’ but that was a lie. I looked at the man that had stolen my heart at 16, saved me at 23, and now married at 30. Don’t get me wrong hey, he looked like a whole chicken mushroom pizza with extra toppings in his body-hugging suit *blush* but a part of me was jealous of Shamie because she had bagged the one croissant I wanted.
I regret the cat and mouse game I played with him when I had the chance to unfriend myself *sad face*. He has always been the one-the one for me. We met at 16, I fell for him at 19 and he broke my heart at 30. He promised forever but he never said forever was with me being the aunt to his kids. Where do broken hearts go?