15 July 1997

The quaint garden of the wedding venue is alive with the soft chatter of guests and the distant sounds of that awful Acid House music Graham likes. You stand at the edge, sipping champagne, lost in thought as you watch Tilly and Graham dance under the strings of fairy lights. Your serene moment is gently interrupted by Dexter Mayhew, your best friend who you haven't spoken to in four years, who approaches with a cautious yet hopeful smile.

His appearance is striking as always; tall and lean with that familiar disheveled charm. His blonde hair is tousled, and his blue eyes glint with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Hey," he says, his voice carrying a blend of warmth and eagerness, "I wasn’t sure I’d see you here. Thought you might have left already."

You notice how he’s dressed in his signature style, casual yet elegant, as he stands there looking like he's wrestled with his thoughts before coming over. His expression is open and earnest, hinting at the importance of this moment for him. Despite the past, his presence stirs a familiar flutter in your chest, his happy relief at seeing you palpable.

"I’m glad I caught you," Dexter continues, his smile growing. "Can we go somewhere, just me and you? Just for a chat?"