"Doesn't the bride look absolutely magical?"

"I know. That dress nearly made me faint, I heard the groom had an original piece specially made for her from fan-freaking Paris. Paris! Can you believe that?"

"Oh, I believe it alright. Look at the way he stares at her, it's like he'd go to the moon and back for that woman."

Ah, the moon. It was always the moon that got dragged down with the triumphs of love, not any other natural satellites, stars or planets were deemed worthy enough.

Another girl sighed with a blush, adjusting her hair in front of the mirror.

"I just wish my boyfriend would get down on one knee already. How many hints does a girl have to give until she gets a wedding like this? Is it really too much to ask for?"

The blonde next to her comfortingly placed her hand on her shoulder, shaking her head. "True love apparently takes its time. Hang in there, sweetheart."

I rolled my eyes, slapping my hand over my eyes to stop the incessant twitching.

How long can someone dry their hands? And why is there only one hand dryer in the only female bathroom for a wedding reception venue?

I checked my phone impatiently, switching from my home screen to my photo albums repeatedly, just so I looked occupied.

Suddenly, a silent notification popped in.

New memory created.

TOGETHER. OVER THE YEARS.

There were so many pictures, in so many places. Different outfits, different hairstyles, different events.

But he was there, in every single one. His arm thrown over me, making silly faces at me while I was trying to get good lighting, and sometimes he wasn't even able to smile properly.

I liked it, even when there was no smile.

True fucking love.

It was remarkable.

My thumb hesitated and lingered over the trash button.

This photo will be deleted from iCloud Photos on all your devices.

That picture wasn't anything to write home about. It was just us sharing a tub of pretzels, with him wearing his black square-framed glasses and that dorky beanie that completely clashed with his outfit.

I wouldn't stop teasing him for it.

It was a nice day.

A nice memory.

I blinked multiple times, almost hurting the phone screen as my wet thumb crashed down on the bin icon.

I gasped and hurriedly checked the tips of my freshly manicured nail, and violently sighed with relief when it was still in good condition.

Phew, that was a close one.

"Everything okay?" A girl asked from behind me, smiling at me like she understood the value of protecting an expensive manicure.

"Just peachy." I smiled back, placing my hands underneath the hand dryer for a good few moments.

"So how do you know the bride?" She asked me, an air of valid curiosity softly floating around her.

"Nice of you to assume I'm gorgeous enough to be on the bride's side, but I'm actually from the groom's part." I snickered over the mild sound of the hand dryer, giving her a friendly wink.

"Hah! Please, I'm the bride's best friend and just looking at the groom's friends makes me want to die in my pool of hideously unfair genetics."

I stepped back from the dryer, almost feeling my eyes start to twinkle.

"The bride's best friend, huh? So best friends that are both really pretty do exist... my whole life has been a supreme lie." I smirked knowingly, slowly sweeping my gaze down her dress, all the way to the hems of the silky train.

She immediately blushed and threw her head back with an easy chuckle, turning her hands up and down under the dryer.

"How do you know the groom, if you don't mind me asking?"

Oh, I don't mind at all.

I painted a tense look on my face with perfect timing, hesitantly looking towards the door.

"Well... it's kind of complicated. I really don't want to make anything awkward by explaining it." I feigned a clumsy shoulder shrug, brushing non-existent dirt off my dress.

The remains of the blush desperately scattered from her face, though it remembered to leave her eyes much wider than it was before.

"Uh, you did get an invitation, right?" It was an unbridled laugh, but not without tinges of doubt in the question.

"Excuse me, but I got the personal hand-written one," I shuffled my fingers through my hair, joining her laughter. "It's just that, I met the groom through his ex and well, let's just say that neither of us are on good terms with that mess of a girl."

It should be shameful and weird to confess this, but it truly felt uplifting to insult myself like that. It wasn't a complete lie either, so there's that.

Her eyebrows shot up, as her lips curved down in thought. "Wow, are you serious? Is everything okay now?"

She wasn't concerned about anyone else but her own friend. We both knew that.

I shrugged my shoulders again, living my role as the innocent bystander that was forced to witness a messy love story.

"As okay as it can get, I guess," I purposefully checked my watch, with a strained smile. "I should get going to the buffet, I don't really care if I look blown up for the pictures, too hungry for that now." I patted my stomach in acknowledgement.

"I'm sure." She nodded her head, too lost in her thoughts to comfort me and tell me that 'I could never look blown up, even if I tried.'

Another day, perhaps.

I swung open the toilet doors, half-satisfaction brimming my veins.

Seven minutes later, I was piling up my plate with white rice, fried cauliflower florets, thick vegetable spring rolls, and the Indian version of spaghetti.

It was mainly the spice that made it different.

"Planning on solving world hunger?"

I turned my head, just as a beautiful sense of victory flew into me.

It was her again.

"I'm taking it five spring rolls at a time, but yes, you're correct." I replied, picking up one more spring roll for good measure.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, subtly glancing at the bride and groom. The constant flashes of light leaving the camera littered their surroundings, their hands were tightly wound together, and they both greeted every guest coming onto the stage with true attention and joy.

I held my plate a little tighter.

"You good?" I questioned her, picking up a spoon and a fork.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just that I had to confirm something, for my own sanity."

And your best friend's. But it's better to omit that part.

Nobody would want word spreading that the bride's having second thoughts. Especially after the wedding being finished, and their first night as husband and wife being a solid three hours away.

The corners of my mouth drew down and I looked away. "This isn't about what I told you back there, is it? Because, trust me, all strings have been cut and she really isn't in his life anymore."

But, she did get the wedding invitation. With a personalised and roughed up sticky note from the groom himself, might I add.

The note read: It would be great if you came. God knows we both need the closure.

"Really, are you sure? He really isn't in touch with anyone else like that, right?"

I scratched the bridge of my nose as I put the plate down on my table, which was positioned right in the middle of the venue.

The position that said: Not insignificant, but not important enough to be put at the front either. Maybe this was the amount of closure he needed.

"As much as I hate talking about a friend behind his back," I said, clenching my hands as I sat down, "We're not the closest of friends, so I don't really know any details. All I do know is that there was some kind of cheating blame, one caught the other at the wrong time, but I have absolutely no clue what else there was to it."

It was exactly what she was expecting to hear but genuinely did not want to. I could tell by the way she pulled a breath in, her fingers beginning to nervously dance by her side.

"Hey," I placed a hand over her shoulder, softly shaking it. "That girl was the mess, not him. If I had to make a guess, I can tell you that it was probably her who went in the wrong direction. Your best friend married a good guy."

A good guy that just happened to find his dick jammed in a place that he definitely hadn't promised a life full of love and whatnot to.

Happens to the best of us.

She half-heartedly smiled in response and nodded. "It's just the stupid overthinking I do, don't mind me. I'll let you enjoy your spring rolls in peace."

"Hey, it happens to the best of us. Good luck with the rest of the reception."

Then, it was entertaining to just watch it unveil.

It was simple. The only element that held everything together was the beautifully undeniable fact that girls could not keep their mouths shut for shit.

I chuckled to myself, carefully swirling the spaghetti around my fork.

The happy couple continued to pose for the camera, unaware and blissfully swimming in the freshness of a marriage.

The best friend slowly climbed the stage, swiftly passing by the guests to stand next to the bride.

It was nothing much for a while. Continued camera clicks, random guests wiping off their onion tears, with romantic music from many languages playing in the background.

Just as some guests were leaving the stage, a small kid tripped and fell, taking down his mum with him.

The groom immediately flew to the rescue, a clown playing the part of a hero to perfection.

I cut the cauliflower floret into two, stabbing my fork into the first half.

That was when the brilliantly hidden whispers started.

The girl tucked her best friend's hair behind her ear, pretending to adjust her gloriously arranged hair-do, and tentatively murmured in her ear.

There it was.

It was like the bride had rapidly sobered from too many strong drinks, and fully turned to give her friend the much-needed attention.

I sprinkled the rice on top of the florets, and picked up both halves with my fork, neatly blowing on it before crunching into it together.

Two florets with one fork.

The groom fell back into position, gesturing for the cameras to start clicking again.

The happy couple's hands intertwined again, but this time, tension was sprayed between the shaky fingers that refused to stay.

Whispers of a tense conversation occurred.

Loving smiles, suddenly only for the sake of the cameras, the guests, and the emotional family.

Desperate wide-glances between the newlywed, as the wife scraped at her husband for a quick and solid answer, hoping for a confident reassurance that she hadn't landed face-first into one big mistake.

He didn't know what to say, but rubbed her palms and pointed to the cameras.

Wrong move.

Suddenly, his strained gaze languidly swarmed in my direction, as he made eye contact with me.

Another wrong move.

I immediately put my thumbs up, and mouthed, "Happy married life."

His eyes became crinkled. Someone hadn't told their wife about inviting their ex to the wedding, and it was unfortunate that the said ex knew about that.

What was fortunate was that the aforementioned ex only came to the wedding reception for one thing.

The cameras stopped clicking.

She dropped his hands.

And I smiled.

True fucking love.

That one was better off skipped, but I recommend you still go for the popcorn.

Oh, and the spring rolls were to die for.

A 2.2/5 from me.

You guys have to tell me what you think.
I'll be waiting right here.
Signing off,
Oceana Camerons