you and I are getting married, originally it wasn’t a plan, but it’s happening anyways. You and I were just friends…not even that, just an acquaintance. I was always cold and closed off, even though my mother tried to get me to speak to you more.

our wedding was huge, a big traditional Indian wedding, to be exact. You wore a red Indian bride’s wear, while I wore the same colors. Everyone was having a good time, dancing, some of your family and mine interacting, drinking alcohol, too. Now it was time to take a photo, I stand next to you with the pose that the photographer suggested. I stand there with a straight face, still not opened up.