The longer the night trudges on, the more everything falls into place in my fucking head. How evasive she was about planning the wedding and the honeymoon. How aggravated she got the closer we got to the wedding. For fuck’s sake, I chide myself. Crying at the engagement party, and at random points in the middle of the night every so often thereafter. Those were the signs. That fucking text. She was starting her new life, today. I wasn’t part of the plan.
