“So… this is it?”

I glued my glistening eyes to the teaspoon that balanced on the edge of my empty saucer. Since picking up the antique china cup, I hadn’t been able to remove it from my rigid grip.

“It doesn’t have to be, Kat,” he replied gently, and stroked my bony wrist.

“Yes, it does,” I stammered, words dribbling from my lips like some unstoppable gurgling stream. “You’re so… stubborn. About everything… and its not fair. Besides, I still can’t forgive you for the songs you preformed in front of your guitar class.”

“But I apologised.”

“Its not enough.”

“Wait – are we ending this because I refuse to wear white at the wedding?”

“Yes!” I burst out, spilling luke warm tea onto my lap as I lashed out. “I don’t want to be your perfect wife, pure and loyal, while you can galavant around in your blacks without pressure or judgement.”

“I would never cheat on you. I love you.”

“Then wear white.”

“I can’t.”

“Then neither will I.”

I stormed out of the cafe, and hailed a taxi in the pouring rain.