It was my day.

Walking down that aisle, feeling the silence of everyone around me - surprised, shocked, the girl scrubs up well. She's beautiful, and we barely realised. We barely noticed.

Well, he did. And that is what matters.

The whispers began when I got to the front, taking up my rightful place, smiling out at everyone from beneath the veil. I wasn't wearing white - well, it wasn't white anymore - but does that really matter these days? Who marries innocent? Who's really pure these days? Impossible.

Of course she was there. Her. That one.

She was wearing white. And his mother's veil. New and old, then. Or maybe borrowed.

She'd borrowed my place. Had he even told her about me? Probably not. That was his way, he did that. He's giggling, and so am I - why doesn't anyone else think this is funny? That she didn't know it was a double wedding?

He never could choose between us. And oh, she thought she won? She really didn't see this coming. Silly girl.

We do.