Hi! This is my first story on fictionpress :) i've written a few short ones for my school yearbook or for my english class. Always wanted to publish one here but never got the guts too. Reviews would be much appreciated! :) And go easy on me okay ;D

He could not believe what he saw.

A little girl beating him at the monkey bars. He was 7-years-old, yes, but his ego was shattered like Humpty Dumpty's shell. I am proud to say that I was the one who put that shock on his face. And that's how everything started. 18 years later and I find myself standing in front of floor-to-ceiling doors. A brown door that looked like it's gone through a war and back.

A celebration of love. Holy matrimony.

Any thought of that sort is plastered onto the atmosphere that's ringing through the church. Men in uniforms carrying flowers and food from the trucks lined outside, into the hall. A ceremony is about to take place no doubt.

Champagne-coloured roses streamed from every aisle. A deep burgundy carpet rolled towards the front of the church where a beautiful window made of carved coloured glass sat. I watched as the fruit of months of hardwork blossomed into a beautiful scenery.

I watched as the bridesmaids flitted about,

"Where's my dress?"

"Where's my right shoe?"

"Who took my BLUSHER!"

It was funny to see them scrambling about while I was calm.

Or as calm as anyone in my situation would be. I peeked through the curtains I was hidden behind and saw guests pouring in. Everyone exchanged handshakes and smiles. The sizzling happiness in the air was infectious. Soon, it was time for everyone to take their seats and assume their roles as guests. First, by turning in unison towards the door and wait.

I giggled at this funny little synchronization.

In the midst of all the door-watching, I saw him.

He took his place and the front, adjusting his bow tie with an all too innocent smile. He was late. On purpose. Today, of all days. This, this was very like him.

I smiled despite myself.

"Stage fright," he once said. "Everyone's eyes on you like that? No, thank you." And he added a shudder just for effect. I teased him mercilessly about this and he would always return it with a lopsided smile that I loved. But I'd always roll my eyes and look away, hiding my own smile that always threatened to show.

I was pulled out of my reverie when I heard the wedding march. I looked down and white met burgundy. White tulle and organza caressed the burgundy carpet with a long train following closely behind. But my ears were transfixed to the music.

I remember an old, faulty piano.

I'd always play the very same piece when we were young and he'd always have to walk down the "aisle" in a dress and shows holding Mr Cuddlemuffin's hand.

Needless to say, he always had a scowl on his face when I made him do this. I chuckled at the memory.

The music stopped and my eyes were on his face again. He smiled an unfathomable smile.

A portly, old man with a kind face opened his book. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…"
Cue sniffling mothers and murmurs of "How beautiful…"

The ministers' speech as I call it, was something I dreaded at every wedding. It was long, drony and always the same. But since it's today, I decided to try and pay attention. The key word here is try, because a few moments later my mind wandered again.

That smile.

"It's familiar," I thought as I floated through my memories.


"I can't decide!" He exclaimed as he flopped onto the patch of grass. I sat down tentatively, not wanting to enrage the already aggravated teen. He and I are both used to his indecisiveness but this time it was serious.

"Oh gee, I wonder. This is my future after all. Of course it's serious!" he'd say if he heard my thoughts. Then he'd launch into a tirade of unrelated matters that generally irked him. What follows would be a lecture directed towards my nonchalance about college.

Then, he'd proceed to be wracked by guilt, throwing his arms around my shoulder and apologizing to his best bud. Ice-cream would come right after.

So it's a win-win situation for me.

He let out a long sigh. Then started to pull at his hair, a bad habit he has that emerges whenever he's aggravated or frustrated. Which he clearly is.

"Hey!" I said. I pulled his hands away and smoothed his hair. I'm very anal about messy hair, especially his. I caught his gaze and it was… unreadable.

'Probably annoyance,' I thought. I could never read people's eyes like the heroinces in my sister, Calleigh's books. Maybe some people are just born with it and I was Unlucky enough to luck out. I inwardly shrugged at the fact.

Now I was the one sighing. "Okay I'm going to offer you a simple way to get around this. If-"

"Really?! How?"

"IF you don't interrupt me" I said. "Or laugh." He nods.

"And trust me," I softly added.

"Always," he said with a chuckle.

"Okay, so first, empty your mind." I saw his mouth starting to move and I put my hand up, giving him a look that silenced him.

"I'm going to give you two options and you choose the first one that comes to mind."

He raised his brow. "That's your great idea on choosing microbiology or actuarial science?"

"Yes, now shut up and clear your mind." I did the exaggerated actions that yoga teachers seemed to have perfected to an art. That got a chucklet out of him.

"Ready?" I didn't wait for his answer and launched off.

"Apples or oranges?"


"Blue or black?"


"Blueberries or strawberries?"


"You can't say neither, you have to pick one!"

"And I pick neither." I stared him down and after a while I gave up;

"Fine. Dogs or cats?"

"Cats," I gave him a dirty look while sticking my tongue out in disgust.

"Autumn or Winter?"

"Autumn," he chuckled. I flashed him a big grin for choosing the season I was named after.

"Black or purple?"


I whistled, "Manly".

He glared. I held my hands up in surrender and said.

"Sofa or bench?"


"Ships or cars?"


"Typical. Guns or roses?"


"Anna Maria or Megan Fox?" I named the most popular girls in school and the male fantasy realm, respectively.


I froze. He stiffened as he realized what he just said. A few seconds passed, and he visibly relaxed. His gaze softened as he smiled and leaned towards me.

"You," he repeated, soft enough so that I was the only one in the park that could possibly hear him.


I remember that smile now. It was the same one Grandpa and Grandma gives each other when they think no one's looking. The same smile they have on when they stroll through the park together, hand-in-hand. It's the same smile Grandpa has on whenever he visits Grandma's grave.

It was the same one he gave me eight years ago.

The minister's voice rang louder now, addressing the crowd.

"Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

The silence dragged long and my hands got clammy. I heard the screeching brakes from 6 years ago in my ears. I saw him shifting to protect me from the oncoming lorry. I remember the blood dripping down his pale face.

I remember the hospital. The surgery. The doctors and finally the three words.

"Fatal memory loss," the doctor said.

"A new life," his parents said. They tore the pages of his life out and rewrote every passage of it and writing me out of it in the process.

"It was your fault," his mother said. "It was all your fault!" she shrieked at me.

I ran. And for 6 years I ran, carrying the pain and the hurt. My tear-stained cheeks accompanied me to sleep. But not this time. This time I'm going to fight. Because he's worth it. He's worth so much more.

With my shaky hands, I stood. My heart pumped wildly as though I just ran for a marathon. My legs were wobbly but I willed myself to stand. And I froze. He was looking at her and his eyes sparkled. I never could read eyes, except for today. I read his eyes and I knew what it said because he had the same sparkle, the same glow in his eyes when he said the three words to me that I'll never forget in my life.

"I love you," he said as flour and egg white from the previous food fight dripped on his face. He tucked a strand of my tomato-sauced hair and repeated himself;

"I love you."

I summoned up the last remaining strength I had and turned, heading towards the door. I closed that part of my heart up and walked away.

I know with certainty that his last image of me would be today. A stranger with tears in her eyes, threatening to spill forward and a sad smile on her face. Just as I'm sure that he's in love with the girl in white next to him. I could never read eyes and I don't know if he could or not.

But I know if anyone looked into mine, we'll both see the exact same word.


So how was it? :D This is sorta inspired by F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Speak Now by Taylor Swift. The scene with the two options and the random guessing? From Phoebe in one of the episodes in FRIENDS ;) I've always wanted to insert this scene in a story but never got a great setting to do it.

Had to do an English essay that revolved around the word "Celebration" so i ended up doing the first thing that came to my mind, a wedding. And halfway through writing it i got inspired by Taylor's Speak Now, and ta-da here it is!
Funny thing is, this was supposed to be for an exam and the "Celebration" thing was a tip from our teacher but the question that came out was totally different so i chose a different one, that is to write a story that starts with "He could not believe what he saw..."

Hence, the opening ;) And to clarify, i'm all for happy endings! But for some reason i have the tendency to write sorta sad endings D: Anyway, reviews? ;)