The (Anti) Wedding Party

It doesn’t matter anymore; what matters is that Hannah loves me enough to want to marry me, and how could I say no to that?

We’ve got to go in five minutes,’ she explains, rubbing my biceps and pulling me up. My feet wince as they bear my weight, toes squishing further into the rubber.

I’m getting married,’ I allow myself to squeal. Considering I never in a million years thought this day would come, nor wanted it to, it now all seems rather exciting and special, like someone actually wants to marry me.

feel a tingle of excitement flutter in my belly.

lips are blue. I think they add to the gloomy, cold aesthetic of the large stone room, to be honest.

bandeau-style wedding dress is a little tight, but not so tight that I won’t be able to have at least one bite of a cocktail sausage or whatever vegan sausage my future mother-in-law insisted my mother and I pay a little extra

‘when you know, you know.’

They managed a rough three years before my dad walked out, never to be heard from again.

-expensive heels, because according to my soon-to-be mother-in-law, I was under no circumstances allowed to walk down the aisle barefoot.

Romance was not a word commonly uttered in my house,