The night before my wedding I heard my maid of honour through the hotel wall saying they’d pour wine on my dress and lose the rings. I recorded four minutes of it with my phone against the connecting door.

He decided it in a taxi. She decided it in a car. I decided it twice — once with a phone in a kitchen doorway and once with a note in my own hand in April.

Not one of us was being cruel. Every single one of us thought we were being kind.

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And the only reason any of it came out is that four women got drunk in a hotel room and forgot about a connecting door.

THE END