A week before my wedding, I ran into her again. The one woman I really loved. The woman who wasn't my fiancé. It wasn't a coincidence either, she had sought me out, wanted to talk to me. I couldn't say no to her, though I should have. She told me how she felt, how she had loved me all along, but didn't want to do anything because I had a fiancé. She cried as she told me, told me how she hated herself for doing this, but knowing she'd hate herself more if she let me get married without knowing how she felt. I kissed her, I took her hand, and I never let go.