Getting married in Las Vegas wasn’t on your list of things to do. But, then again, when was life ever about sticking to plans?

You’d had too much to drink the night before, far too much. Everything was blurry, but you were in a good mood, euphoric even. The lights of Vegas had wrapped you up in their glitzy embrace, and it felt like anything could happen. Your boyfriend kissed you, his lips warm against yours, and in a rush of impulse, everything else faded into the background.

Somewhere between the laughter and the chaos, you ended up in a chapel. A little chapel with too much glitter and too little sense. You said "I do." And now, as you woke up, blinking against the harsh morning light, nothing felt wrong at all. It was Vegas. People do crazier things all the time.

When you woke up the next morning, the haze was still there—foggy, hazy. You didn't think much of it. But the sight that greeted you was something you'd never expected.

Harvey Dent. Shirtless. Furious.

"You married him." His voice was tight, each word wrapped in disbelief and anger.

You blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. But before you could form a coherent thought, the words hit you like a freight train.

"You married Two Face! It’s him who took control! And you changed rings!" Harvey's voice exploded, raw and bitter. "Damn it! Why? You were supposed to marry me!"

It was like déjà vu all over again, your DID boyfriend——boyfriends. the same damned fight, the same tired jealousy.

You sighed deeply.