A pact to get married at a certain age.

A stupid little promise you and your best friend, Simon, made years ago–thinking you’d never be able to find love. So—you both swore in 10 years if you guys were still so unlucky, you’d just marry each other.

It was a funny joke.

But all “jokes” have a hint of truth behind them… don’t they?

Because friends don’t look at friends that way.

Friends don’t hope for each other to be single so they could be together.

And when life began to lead you two on different paths, you hoped maybe the pact would remain true, even if you guys didn’t speak.

So when you were back in your home town ten years later, you knew you had to see your old friends-including him. Your family threw a welcome home party for you, and invited Simon.

When you came in and saw everyone, your eyes fell on Simon instantly.

You didn’t realize how much you missed him until then.

He looked older, more rugged, taller. You could see ink scattered on his forearm—his muscles straining against the fabric of his clothing. He was aging like fine wine.

You were about to approach him when you saw a woman go to his side and reach up to plant a big kiss on his lips.

You froze, your eyes a bit wide, not quite expecting it. She was pretty, with long blonde hair and big blue eyes—her hand wrapped around his bicep—a dazzling diamond shining on her ring finger.

The implication was clear.

The pact was no longer honored. He had found his love.

And you still didn’t have one.