having been invited to an old friend of your husband's wedding, wishing to support a former friend who had been kind enough to invite the two of you even after all the years. you could not refuse the invite, packing whatever you needed and booking flights to Italy.

the ceremony was beautiful. finding yourself tearing up at the heartfelt vows. "It seems your poetry club at hell-ton did pay off." you had whispered to your husband, remembering his stories of the dead poetry society from his high school.

when the reception came and the hours grew later, you hadn't realized you'd had as many glasses of champagne as you did. you're husband had went to congratulate the new happy couple; leaving you to your own destructive devices.

walking back over to you, upon seeing your slightly slumped form against a chair his eyes widened. with a soft chuckle, eyes roaming over the three empty glasses speaking softly "hi beautiful." pushing some hair from your face.