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Thirteen words:“I want the next one of these excessive, exuberant occasions to be ours.” shortly followed up by: “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” is how the wedding happens.The origin story preceding the proposal stems much further back, however, into early childhood and the awkward progression through teenage years.They had always been in each other's lives - and since birth - because their respective families were family in the closest sense of the word that could be held by non-blood relations, which only meant the following three things.Being dragged to every family occasion; the grey sadness of a funeral or the bright joy of a wedding, every holiday - every holiday being mutually attended by both sides - and every large family get together/new year party/seasonal catch-up. Name the occasion and they’d be there, and if there wasn’t an occasion - a rare occurrence - their families possessed the skill to magic a day into an occasion. It was something that just happened.So it came as no surprise that Miranda and Faith were always destined to be friends; an inevitability after growing up together because a shared childhood was an instant friendship and equally an unbreakable bond. The other thing, however, the attraction and the feelings settled quite unexpectedly one evening. Faith, Miranda’s memory continually reminded her, made the first move.They were young and rebelling, protesting and sharing the mutual morbidness reflected from their families seemingly emotional numbness, and they had each other. It was a vital lifeline the universe had gifted them, something to ease the strain of family, because when two kindred spirits meet they become one.In doing so, the gardens of the homes around them became where secrets were shared, sealed by the promises of secret smiles, and where sanctuary could always be relied upon to be found. They could discuss everything (from the coldness of mothers to future careers) between grins and suppressed laughter, for they risked the danger of their parent-free sanctuary being disturbed if they laughed too loudly.Miranda had always liked Faith. Her best friend held bravado, a confidence that shone into the eyes of her thirteen year old self, bright yet not blinding. It was hard not to be drawn in by the girl’s fables and dramatically rendered impressions of their families - she was, by all accounts, a talented impressionist - and Miranda’s cheeks would hurt from ceaseless smiles, her sides sore from an endlessly flowing stream of laughter. Her best friend was the funniest person in the world around them, between two families and the plush grandness of the bright, high-ceilinged Islington homes in which they lived.Everything changed on a Friday evening. They were in the garden again, in the sanctuary, of Miranda’s home. Boisterous as ever they had dashed from the back door into the furthest reaches of the garden, leaping into the jungle of large oak trees and greenery far away from the mingling talkative bodies of networking parents. It was another champagne get together - informal - where the adults gossiped over drinks.Miranda was out of breath from running and grinned when she stopped to salvage some air. With her back resting against an oak tree she let out a hearty laugh. Faith, ever the competitor, had attempted to bridge the racing distance between them but had failed quite dramatically in her attempt, energetically sliding into the muddy and uneven ground to land, hard, at the edge of Miranda’s feet.“Are you-” Miranda fought off laughter at her best friend’s expense, a benefit reaped from a lifelong friendship. It was pleasantly acceptable to laugh at your friend’s expense if you loved them at their best and at their worst. Miranda channelled seriousness but the situation evoked a further chortle of laughter. It was as if Faith had slipped on a banana skin. “Are you alright?”Faith’s grin was lopsided from where she lay at Miranda’s feet. “If I cry concussion,” she began, shifting as she sat up, rubbing her side, “do you think they’d let me ditch school for next week?”“You didn’t even hit your head.” Miranda mused as she offered a supportive outstretched hand and she pulled Faith to her feet.“Well, I’m seeing two of you right now.” Faith dramatised, waving a pointed finger between where Miranda stood and a nearby oak tree. She would milk the situation for all its worth.“You’re so...” Miranda teased, her words reflecting humour for she knew Faith was exaggerating but she opted to play along. The scenarios they breathed life into were a key aspect of their friendship. Banter was everything.Miranda leaned in closer, thankful for the physical groundedness of the thick tree supporting her back but her words drifted, disappearing into the late evening because Faith’s posture and presence silenced all thoughts.“Two of you.” Faith openly admired, gazing into her eyes and Miranda realised that her best friend was imagining the very scenario she was describing. Faith touched her bruised side with her left hand as Miranda held onto her right. “How terrible.”The admission distilled a flicker of goosebumps, a change in air, and Miranda once again found herself at a loss for words. Holding eye contact, Miranda convinced herself that the sole reason she was admiring her friend’s deep brown eyes was to search for the remnants of the so-called ‘concussion’ she didn’t know anything about, and not the way in which the words evoked the slightest curve of a smile or the steadily increasing heartbeat beginning to perpetuate her chest. Faith’s words were offered with undeniable flirtation and an equally flirtatious smile and the power wielded by those qualities was enough to null and void the simple functioning ability of voicing a retort.Faith’s touch grazed her arm, her hand gently moving and Miranda remained at a loss for words as Faith sought to grasp both of her hands proceeding to lace their fingers together. Their hands, she learned, slot together like they were meant to be, the connection soft and reassuring and equally good.“I’ll try not to be so clumsy next time, then.” Faith promised, leaning close to whisper and winking as if uttering a lifelong secret in the presence of a friend. She laughed, squeezing Miranda’s hands as she injected humour into the warm and clouded air. “Because my side hurts like a bitch.”They laughed together, holding hands as the sky darkened and the comfort of the handhold was the only warmth left in the garden that October night.Something changed between them from that moment on, the subtlest alteration to the casual passing eye but in reality a seismic shift in their relationship had unfolded, and the awareness arrived with a rush of butterflies and equal exhilaration. Falling into something deeper than friendship felt like a natural progression and although Faith was the one with the rebellious bravado continually intact through her teen years, thus also the first to act on her feelings, it arrived in two stages.The first was, of course, holding Miranda’s hands; a simple touch that rendered a lifelong friendship with the burgeoning - but always present - feelings of interest. Coloured by the way in which their eyes fell upon one another, often piercingly and now intimate, the touch signified their profound and unbreakable connection. The second-half of forever changing their relationship dynamic unfolded only a day later.Spending Saturday afternoon in Faith’s room was something of a weekly ritual, a home away from home of sorts, and another sanctuary. Fiona, Faith’s mother, was often displeased as she roamed around the house all with the presence of a terrifying boarding school matron and Faith, staying true to her rebellious personality, prodded and poked the lion that was known as her mother with much irritation. This Saturday was no different.Her mother kept shouting from downstairs for the music - currently causing the wooden floor of her room to vibrate - to be turned down and Faith kept raising her voice over the soaring soundwaves and yelling, ironically, that she couldn’t hear her. She closed her bedroom door to a further cry from her mother while Miranda lay with her back on the bed, her eyes staring up at the posters on the ceiling. Now faded, teenage angst remained - for a few more years at least - as their eighteenth birthdays approached.“You're annoying her.” Miranda announced as she spoke over the up-too-loud music which was only being played to rile the rigid adults sat downstairs. It was true, of course, for Faith fought her parents like a carefully calculated war; each day and to every degree she could. It was something to be admired, Miranda mused, although it contrasted deeply to her relatively conflict-free relationship with her own parents.“Correction.” Faith exclaimed, “I’m educating her.”“What with?” Miranda snorted, amused by her own joke. “Bad music?”Faith scoffed. “You take that back.”“Okay.” Miranda said, teasingly, as the bed dipped and Faith crawled to her side. She was feeling bold. A sure-fire way to playfully rile her best friend was always to press her taste in music, something Faith remained adeptly protective of. The roots of their friendship had been built on teasing so Miranda couldn’t just stop there, oh no.“Uneducated rock music?”“Fair warning,” Faith playfully jabbed Miranda in the side, distilling an “ow”, meaning every word. “I will push you off this bed.”The challenge was met. “I’d like to see you tr-”Miranda yelped as Faith leapt into tickling her sides, gasping as she attempted to avoid the quick movement and incoming wrath of the tackle. Tickling was a succinct form of torture but it was also a weakness. Miranda jolted against the bed laughing and squealing as the attack invoked involuntary surprise and brief flickers of pain.“Stop it! Stop!” she laughed and twitched, fighting off the onslaught with much laughter as she came close to sliding from the bed and onto the shiny wooden floor below. “Please!”Faith did as she was urged, ceasing her attack, and upon opening her eyes, Miranda couldn’t slow the growing smile from capturing her face. The tickling had led to a shift in movement and Faith was closer now, kneeling across her lap. Her hair was loose with wavy strands daring to be touched and Miranda lost herself to the haze, to the flirtatious flutter of eyelashes and the quick and sudden flicker of movement of Faith’s gaze resting on her lips and then her eyes. Faith’s movement had been noticed yet her expression reflected tenderness. There were no traces of bashfulness, only transparent yearning and somehow that made Miranda love Faith even more than she already did.“I almost fell off the bed!” Miranda said, breathless; breathless because of the unfolding moment and the magnetic push-pull aspect that silenced the loud music polluting Faith’s room. She grinned and laughed, and then grinned-laughed, and Faith reached out to gently touch her face.“Sorry.” she said, sounding very much not sorry at all. Her eyes glinted as her touch caressed. “Maybe I’m still concussed.”Miranda’s laugh reflected disbelief at the offered excuse but she played along. “Well, let me see.”“So you’re a Doctor now?”“Maybe.” Miranda grinned. “Maybe I am.”Faith caressed Miranda’s cheek with her fingertips, teasing. “Or maybe you just like gazing into my eyes.”Miranda’s grin remained unbreakable as they eyed each other. She felt dazed, injected with a dose of adrenaline and equal happiness that spread from her heart to settle in her expression.“Maybe I do.”“An admission.” Faith said pointedly. Miranda registered the elation in her voice. “Honest.”“Yes.” Miranda exhaled, amused and proud, with slight embarrassment. Faith’s touch rested against her neck and she blushed, warming at the way her body was reacting and the now thunderous beat of her heart. She wasn’t conscious enough to register the ticklish playfulness slipping into her voice and the thrill it evoked. “And they’re very brown.”Faith leaned in close, closer than before, and suddenly they were back in their secret place, in their protective sanctuary, alone and together. The continuing gaze between them shared the intimacy of a secret smile.When they were locked like this, in each other’s space, everything else dimmed to darkness, fading into the background. Miranda sensed electricity dancing across her warm cheeks, crafted by the intense and sweeping gaze of her best friend, reaching past her eyes before it settled into the hidden depths of her soul.Faith was never as attractive to Miranda as she was now; slightly messy hair, eyes browner than brown, all complimented by the sheer magnetism of a slowly bit bottom lip. Faith appeared to be in a slow dance with temptation as her touch rested against Miranda’s chin, the touch electric. Temptation to do what exactly, Miranda remained unsure, but the enjoyment of the moment was mutually shared and desired.Miranda gulped in response to the strong emotions rippling through the air and, although imposing, they weren’t unwelcome. The sudden bubble of excitement only exaggerated the unspeakable bond between the two childhood friends and, although the feelings were very fresh and very new - and by proxy intimidating - they felt prophesied.Miranda reached back and clutched the words which her brain had failed her voice to commit to. They seemed faint, weak, resting in the distant darkness of her mind. The power of Faith’s close proximity and the sudden deviation in their dynamic was overwhelming but Miranda remained strong yet remained unable to push through the haze to locate her speech.The fight was lost as Faith drew closer, angling Miranda’s chin upwards by the softest and slightest of touch, the intensiveness of the eye contact giving way to something resembling bravery in the midst of a strong dance with temptation until she was suddenly leaning forward. Miranda’s lips parted expectantly, readying herself for the connection, the simple progression to well over a decade of build up, and her eyelids fluttered and closed.The initial contact of a first kiss was timid and nothing more than a shy closed mouth kiss, lips merging slowly and just as softly. If the last sight Miranda could ever commit to memory had to be this - Faith’s eyes upon her own and the magnetic draw of soft lips upon soft lips - she could accept it.Miranda’s lips parted as Faith eased back and the mutual want and desire was immortalised in the sparking collision of eyes. It flickered like the start of a dry match struck flame, sizzling from an initial spark into brightly being. It had been the start of something but not quite enough. Miranda reached forward and pulled Faith closer, cupping her face as she dared - and desired - their lips to meet again.They kissed and Faith threw herself into the connection, salvaging the contact as parted lips met parted lips and colliding mouths became out of breath hungry and open mouthed kisses. They were tangled up, kissing across creased covers and crushed white pillows, lost to a new sensation that felt like natural progression, for their friendship was a metamorphosis - a caterpillar to butterfly - because it bloomed and evolved into a further form. They were and would always remain childhood friends, the roots of a lifelong friendship had been secured, and love was just another layer of the rapidly expanding mosaic known as life.They kissed with desperation, finally breaking apart when the caressing touches of lips had been sated. The connection changed everything and it took a moment for reflection to transition into unfolding yet mirroring smiles of joyful amazement at something that felt too surreal, too good and too perfect, to have ever taken place.It did happen, though, for Faith’s lips were smudged with the remnants of Miranda’s lightly touched crimson chapstick, and Miranda reaped the benefits of someone who had not only just been in receipt of their very first kiss but also so thoroughly kissed for the first time. Her hands slid through Faith’s hair in automation and Faith caressed her sides, remaining close. With their foreheads pressed together, their eyes fluttered closed and they took time to breathe each other in.“I finally got to kiss you.” Faith whispered, her voice sounding honest and raw in admission. She sounded all too pleased about the triumph and Miranda’s cheeks brightened. “Congrats to me.”They laughed and bumped noses before there was a moment of sole reflection; of immersing themselves in the comfort of the closeness crafted by the touch.“There was a moment…” Faith added, “when I wasn’t sure if I ever would, or even could.”“And yet you did.” Miranda whispered after a moment. She blinked, biting her bottom lip as her touch caressed Faith’s shoulders. “And I’m… you have no idea how contented I am that you did.”Miranda surprised them both by bridging the gap between them, drawing Faith in and kissing her once, twice and three times; short but meaningful kisses.“You have the softest lips.” Miranda murmured breathlessly against Faith’s lips when she pulled back. “I have ever kissed.”Faith’s happiness unfolded as a soft and sharp laugh and their foreheads touched, solidifying a promise.“So what does this mean?” Miranda broached the subject carefully. It was a naive thought but she worried for their friendship. Would things change between them and, if so, not for the better?Miranda spoke quietly. “For us?”“It means… if we want to kiss each other, we want to kiss each other.” Faith made it sound so simplistic and uncomplicated. She leaned back to look into Miranda’s eyes. Much to her happiness, she didn’t observe worry, instead she recognised the distinctive traces of excitement and something much more tantalising yet unfamiliar; lust.“And I do.” Miranda said, nodding and sure of herself beyond the rising flutter of butterflies and the rush of feelings which seemed to turn her on her head. “I do want to kiss you.”“Then,” Faith soothed quietly, “let’s not stop.”So they didn’t, and when the music subsided at the end of its current shuffle, Faith was too preoccupied to find it within herself to rile up her frowning mother and neutral father sat downstairs. Their parents learned of their relationship via the clichéd accidental walk-in-on, during Christmas.It had by all accounts been something of miracle that their bedroom and garden make out sessions - that had been unfolding since October - had gone unnoticed because their attraction to one another was as subtle as a red double-decker bus parked on a quiet, suburban Islington square.Equally a miracle was their willpower to curb their tangled up dalliances before they went further, both in mutual agreement that their first time together could not take place with their parents under the same roof, the risk too high. Their greatest fear became their greatest weakness for although they weren’t walked in on in per say - in the terms of the situation they previously described - it felt equally as awful.It was too obvious to deny what they had been doing the night they were walked in on, which, for the record, was making out in the then abandoned kitchen (the occasion, this time, a Boxing Day party) because the evidence ranked too highly in odds against them. Their parents had gaped at them, gapes filtering into blinked eyes of disbelief with a brief flicker of something resembling a twinkling of amusement at the scandalous sight; their respective daughters caught kissing each other.There were bruised lips and the blurred messy pigments of contrasting lipsticks on top of the not-so subtly creased dress which Miranda’s hands were doing their very best to amend and tug up (Faith’s wandering hands had a lot to answer for).In addition they were joyous and tipsy but mostly drunk on each other, their faces flushed and warm and as hard as Miranda tried her best to, she could not muster the strength to look her parents in the eye. Faith on the other hand gazed at her mother as she held onto Miranda’s hand quite proudly, woozy. She wore the lipstick stains (Miranda, the culprit) on her neck like a badge. The whole situation was embarrassing yet simultaneously amusing. To be walked in on, in their current state, and to show no obvious denial.“Hi, my name is Faith.” flowed the deadpan, channelling her very best impression of something resembling a halfway point between a confession of an attendee at an AA meeting and a first introduction. Faith, Miranda was certain, had a future career in performance art. “And I’m one hundred percent truly, truly gay.” Faith raised an imaginary champagne glass to their parents with resting emphasis on Fiona, her mother. “And this is my girlfriend. She’s quite simply amazing.”Coming out, for the most part, was naturally messy but their parents were accepting (“Miranda, it doesn’t matter if she’s a girl. Your mother and I are just so undeniably happy that you’ve found someone, and if that someone happens to be a girl, then it is what it is.”) although the occasional outburst of an outdated stereotypical belief amidst a sweeping sea of heterosexuality was cast as often as rain fell on a January evening.“We always knew you were gay, darling.” Fiona would say to her daughter through a thin veil of patronisation. “But this is still a shock, you see, because it’s confirmation. Your father and I are always right.”“You just don’t like Miranda.” Faith would counter (truth clinging to her words, she was right) before awkward dinners and stifled conversation. “But dad does, and that’s just fine and well because I don’t care for or value your opinion.”“You lesbians are always so confrontational.”“Then stop giving us a reason to be.” Faith paused, arranging the plates on the table, a physical manifestation of her frustration at her mother. Miranda was coming over for their first official meet-the-parents-over-dinner although their familiarity with one another was swimming into the realms of something beyond family at this point. Her mother’s dislike of her girlfriend, however, seemed to turn this desirable vision of togetherness on its head.Faith sighed, replaying her mother’s comment. “And we're not a tribe, mother.”“Could’ve fooled me.”The kitchen discussion was cut short as the doorbell rang out, echoing around the house.“Be nice to her.” Faith insisted, turning on her feet as she drifted to greet the guests at the door. “I know that’s a real chore for you.”“I’ll try.” her mother said quietly to an empty room, wearing a forced smile that disappeared as quickly as it had been devised.Faith opened the door and found Miranda grinning and swaying nervously on the doorstep situated next to her mum and dad.“Hi.” she greeted (they spoke in unison) and they laughed, lost to their own world.“I suppose we needn’t bother with introductions?” Charles gushed, excited for his daughter and amused at the unfolding interaction. He pushed his glasses up from the crook of his nose. “We can either skip formalities or keep them.”“Shhh… shhh.” Carrie cut in, tugging on his arm and grasping a bottle of wine with the other. Formalities, it seemed, were off the table for tonight. “Just ignore him. He gets carried away. It’s so nice to see you, sweetie.”Faith’s dimple appeared as she smiled. “Please do come in.”As Charles and Carrie stepped inside, Miranda hung back, one foot hovering on the doorstep. “Hi.” she said again, this time in privacy as her parents made their way into the house. “You look… radiant.”“Stop it, you’re making me blush.”“Am I?” Miranda teased, knowing quite well she was.“Yes, and don’t be cute.” Faith warned, grinning. “We have a whole hellish dinner to get through tonight, and if you keep looking at me like that, then…”Miranda stepped closer. It was the physical manifestation of playing your best hand into checkmate. It was always fun to step into her girlfriend's space to win out a reaction whether involuntary or not.“Like what?” she cooed, amused at the obvious power she wielded. Their connection was magnetic, their attraction to one another even more so. “I will need you to explain it to me.”Faith held her gaze, the eye contact highlighting everything that she didn’t need to explain. It was unspoken and deeply obvious.“What we talked about, the other night.” Faith lamented, her words a bold tone for the beginning of the evening yet entirely separate from the unfolding conversation, words which she had been itching to say. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about, actually.”Miranda’s thoughts rewound. Their relationship was progressing, the intimacy between them was growing and such developments wove together whispered conversations (“I want you to be my first, and I yours.”) and Miranda’s confession of losing their virginity to each other had once again draped the full weight of intimacy firmly around their shoulders. It was inevitable, of course, the first time, but now certainty clung to the words. Now they were ready.“And I don’t want to make this weird or anything-” Miranda’s placed finger on her girlfriend’s lips, immediately suspending all further thoughts with the touch.“Mum and dad are away for the weekend.” Miranda confided, her words spoken with just enough subtext to snatch Faith’s breath away, quickly and all at once. “Next weekend.”Faith’s eyes glinted. “You’re… sure?”Miranda nodded, tracing Faith’s lips with her finger. She grinned, excitement unfolding upon her like the glow and warmth of the sun. They solidified their plan by a sweeping doorstep kiss; kissing until Fiona, Faith’s mother, loudly called that dinner was ready and that if they wanted any then they should remove their lips from each other at once. Their first time happened much as planned.Miranda waved her parents off in the early afternoon and as soon as the cab had departed the end of the street, Miranda set about organising her preparations. Faith was set to come over for dinner which gave her a few hours to herself.Wine was poured - a drinks cabinet was futile if it wasn’t utilised - the liquid coaxing a relaxation against the flickering fire of nerves burning deep within and the more Miranda sipped her glass, the more she felt content upon descending on her wardrobe. Everything had to be perfect for the night but especially what she would wear.Eventually the towering heap of discarded clothes on her bedroom floor gave way to a little black dress, her jewellery box revealed shiny earrings and she fixed herself with light makeup (enhance the eyes, they said, for they tell no lies) before triple checking the time on her dresser. She had exactly one hour before Faith would be here.The hour passed by quickly. The sand fled the hourglass as nerves gave way to butterflies that in turn gave way to excitement. The thought of losing her virginity to not only her best friend - the first girl she had ever loved - held equal excitement and apprehension.Excitement because, well, sex. Sex with a girl, with Faith, and apprehension because... sex. Sex with a girl, sex with Faith. They were very loud thoughts, playing on repetition as Miranda prepared dinner and finished last minute preparations for her guest’s arrival.When the sound of the doorbell rang out, Miranda exhaled, breathing deep as a familiar rush fizzled into the air. It was obvious that tonight could go only two ways. It could go well - great, even - but it also held the potential to slide onto the other lower end of the scale, the side which Miranda held visions of breathing.Miranda freed herself from her restlessness by shaking her shoulders and moved down the hallway. The door opened to reveal Faith holding a bouquet of flowers - rose and lilies - and Miranda backtracked on her belief that the night could ever disappoint with such a perfect beginning.They greeted each other with exchanges of compliments and gifts before they kissed on the doorstep. Miranda’s little black dress complimented Faith’s tidy look of a tucked in deep-violet shirt over black skinny jeans and a patterned jacket.“These are beautiful.” Miranda gushed as she held the bouquet of flowers, her nostrils inhaling the intoxicating aromas of the pinks. “Thank you.”They slipped into the house with unshakeable smiles. The night was only beginning.“You know, I’m starting to feel like you were the one behind their weekend getaway.” Faith said, knowingly and relaxed after dinner. She watched the flame of the table’s tea candles dance and flicker before her gaze returned to Miranda.“I mean,” Miranda closed her eyes, reopening them when she laughed and blushed as she shared an admission, “you’re not wrong.”“You’re terrible.” Faith grinned. “And I’m so proud.”“It was a late Christmas present!” Miranda protested in defence. “I… saw an opportunity and I seized it with both hands.” She laughed and sipped a mouthful of wine. “And it works out for the both of us. They get to spend some boring, adulting time together courtesy of moi, they’re very daring daughter, and we get to spend some interesting time together, alone. No distractions. Just… us.”“Just us.”Happy laughter, colouring excitement and nerves, led them to Miranda’s room.The same nervous excitement remained present when they finished, when covers were messy and pillows were crushed, which gave way to gentle sensual kissing and tangled bodies reflecting comfort and intimacy, and togetherness enough.“‘Mum, dad,’” Miranda dramatised, borrowing Faith’s drama hat for a single humorous moment between banterous utterings of sweet nothings and their normal flowing of wit. They had been talking for over an hour now, content in the comfortable cocoon of warmth that hid them from the outside world.Faith snorted as her girlfriend channelled her best drama class, sans clothes. It made her confession all the more poignant.“'I just lost my virginity to a girl'."They lay on their sides, laughing, amply warm where they sheltered underneath the covers. Miranda gazed into eyes which correlated with a recently depositing of bliss. She saw herself and the same euphoria mirrored in those deep brown eyes and admitted immediately in that moment that she loved Faith; she always had. The moment generated transparent honesty and Faith confessed the same. They loved each other, truly and together.Miranda shifted as she pulled back, dampening her bruised lips as her gaze met equally hungry eyes. The further milestone was celebrated by a kiss, the bed dipping as a tidal wave of happiness swept throughout the room, washing with it a sea of love that was equally thrilling to swim through. Everything, after the first time, went well.Miranda secured her first job while Faith continued to study and life went on. Relatives got married and some moved in together, events which were all attended by their continuously interlinking families.Life was sailing along smoothly - too smoothly - until exactly three days short of Faith’s nineteenth birthday when she lost her dad.His unexpected passing brought sadness, anguish, and a cloud fell upon the two families who had felt his presence deeply but even more so his absence.Faith, through her grieving, retained a deep bitterness because her dad was young, far too young, to have been taken in the way in which he was and her mind was perpetually haunted by a guilty conscience and the last conversation she would ever have with her father. It had been an argument, not a serious one, but an argument nonetheless.The funeral was stuffy like all funerals are and Miranda, alongside her parents spent an evening, a week before the funeral, with Faith and Fiona.The discussions that unfolded were melancholic and sorrowful and became all too overwhelming for Faith who rushed from the living room when her mother’s unbreakable stoic display became too much to bear.“I’ll go...” Miranda said quietly, and Fiona for the first time during that evening, emoted an expression. Carrie and Charles shared a knowing look with their daughter before she slipped from the room. Miranda heard the conservatory door close and knew where Faith would be.Flowers were in full bloom at the edge of the garden, life after death, as Miranda followed the charging shape of her girlfriend to the bottom of the garden. She heard her crying and ran to end the temporary distance placed between them.“Faith, please talk to me.”“She hasn’t so much as shed one tear since he died.” flowed the first statement, sounding muffled through an onslaught of tears which Miranda ran forward to catch and wipe away. “One! It’s just so… so cold.”“Everyone grieves in different ways.” Miranda consoled, smoothing out her girlfriend’s falling tears. She pulled her close, attempting to offer her comfort but Faith pulled away.“But that’s just it! She hasn’t even started to grieve. She’d have to express something for that.”Miranda shared the pain on her girlfriend's expression. It broke her heart to see her upset, weeping and angry. “You have every right to be upset.” she began, carefully, watching the way her girlfriend’s features reacted to her words. Faith wiped her tears away before folding her arms. Her body language said she didn’t want to be touched. “You’ve just lost your dad.” Faith offered acknowledgement. “And I’m here for you, always, but you have to let me in.”Faith sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I’m not going back in there.”“You’re not obligated to.” Miranda reached out to take her girlfriend’s hand.Faith moved, not to take Miranda’s hand, but to take a further step away. “You should go back in.”“I’m not leaving you, not like this.” Miranda’s expression coloured with worry. The hurt she was absorbing grazed the core of her soul as Faith averted her gaze, taking a further significant step back. It felt symbolic of the standstill where their relationship rested at which only doubled the hurt. Grief remained at its most damaging when it grew disruptive.“Don’t do this.” Miranda begged, not willing to accept the distance sliding to separate them without protest. She watched as her girlfriend descended further down the garden path. “Don’t shut me out.”All Miranda heard in response was a weakly cast “I’m sorry” and as difficult as it was to breathe down and accept Miranda knew that she had to let go. If Faith desired space then her wish would be followed yet that didn’t stop the tears from falling as Miranda stood, her legs heavy like lead and unmoving. They didn’t see each other again until the day of the funeral, one week later.It was a grey day. Crowds amassed outside the church yet Miranda had never felt more alone. Her parents greeted fellow mourners with pleasantries before they made their way up the hilly pathway to the graveside.Miranda located Faith between recognisable family members while Fiona remained closest to the vacant burial space in the ground. The grave was crowded with attendees and Faith, with her back to Miranda and her parents, remained out of reach. Miranda needed to be by her girlfriend’s side but she knew that out of respect they would only be able to talk when the service was over so she patiently followed her parents and joined the mourners behind the closest family members.The service was solemn. Funerals held an incredibly surrealistic quality to them and Miranda found the air around them stifling, suffocating and hard to breathe. Memories played throughout her head like they had just happened yesterday - supplemented by tears - but time’s trickery was a continuous beast for life goes by all too fast; the pain of mourning.The words were meaningful, the service short, before the casket descended and the mourning began. The crowds thinned out until there was just a crowd of five left behind; with Faith amongst them. She remained overlooking the grave, too fresh for a gravestone, and the others - including her mother, Carrie and Charles - busied themselves with fading out of sight as Miranda approached her girlfriend.The cold autumn wind blew into her face as she neared and she pulled on her jacket before fixing her wind blown hair. She could feel the remnants of her ruined eyeliner running down her cheeks and Miranda, knowing exactly what her girlfriend was thinking, moved to her side.There was a moment of silence before she spoke, when Faith just sniffled and glanced between her best friend and the father she would never see again, at least, not in the same way.Miranda wiped her damp cheek. “He knew how much you loved him.”“Did he?” Faith exhaled. The day had been emotionally draining and it wasn’t quite over yet. She turned to look at Miranda for the first time since the garden, now ready to accept the comfort and love she had turned her back on one week ago. “I don’t think he did.”“Oh, he did.” Miranda assured. Her offered comfort was welcomed when she wrapped an arm around Faith’s waist. “He did love you. More than anything.”Faith leaned her head against Miranda’s shoulder as they gazed at the grave set before them. Cemeteries were eternally cold, the brisk atmosphere eerily symbolic of death.“I’m sorry…” Faith began, breathing deeply as she absorbed the comfort offered by her girlfriend’s presence. “...for everything, for pushing you away.”Miranda shifted, turning around until they were face to face and holding hands. “You were hurt and grieving, Faith. You still are.”“And you were there for me,” Faith retorted, “and I still pushed you away.”“But only because you needed to. Everyone needs space, every now and then.”“Stop being so attractively rational.” Faith squeezed Miranda’s hands. “It was wrong.”“Grief is not wrong.” Miranda said meaningfully, leaning in. “It isn’t, even if it sometimes causes us to lash out and say or do the things we later regret. To the people we care about the most.”Faith glanced to their interlocked hands, grateful more than ever to have not only her girlfriend by her side but her best friend. “I don’t deserve you.”On such a sombre day the first genuine laugh was shared.Miranda composed herself, shining reassurance onto her girlfriend. On a normal occasion Faith’s comment would be retorted by a teasingly cast “no, you don’t deserve me” but today was not a normal occasion and their banterous retort dimmed like a flag at half-mast.“I just wanted you to know that-” Miranda swallowed, her emotions raw. “I’m here for you, whatever and whenever you need. And if that’s me, leaving you alone, then-”“I don’t want that.” Faith said at once, shaking her head. “I want you here, beside me. It’s just…” she paused, her thoughts trailing off. “I can’t promise that it’s going to be easy.”“Then we’ll make of it what we can.” Miranda replied simply. “Together.” She smiled when she caught sight of the bright spark of hope that sparkled, shimmering through the pool of grief and sadness. “You held my hand, and have been holding it ever since. And if you think for one second that I’m ever going to let that go...” Miranda held onto Faith’s hands with meaning. “...then I will quite proudly call you crazy.”“Okay.” Faith murmured, lightly. “Not to the calling me crazy part… to the never letting go part.” She leaned in until her words brushed against Miranda’s lips. “Although if you want to call me crazy… I guess I am, but only for you.”Miranda shook her head before bursting into laughter, soon to be joined by Faith. They were back to laughing at her girlfriend's expense, at corny yet welcomed admissions, a small flicker of light through life’s latest tragedy. It took her a moment for the realisation to dawn; that they were laughing - genuinely laughing - on one of the darkest days. The forever rocking seesaw of life. If you didn’t find these type of moments, the light in the dark, then breathing was meaningless.The laughter subsided and Miranda glanced down, their interlocked hands swaying together. “I’ll always remember the warm welcome he’d give me.” she said, unable to root her gaze from the mutual support of hands in hands. “And how he took me aside to tell me how happy he was seeing you happy.”“When did…” Faith asked, quietly, unable to finish her question.“A few weeks after they walked in on us.” Miranda paused, playing with Faith’s hands as she finally met her eyes. “The first time they walked in on us.” She let go of Faith’s hands to cup her face.“He loved you.” she soothed but Faith could not respond, her emotions numbing her still as she fought off a further onset of tears. Everything was overwhelming, the events of the morning and afternoon building to an emotional crescendo which she succumbed to when Miranda tugged her into a full body hug.They remained in that position - holding one another - for an interminable period of time that featured falling tears over shoulders and reassuring squeezes as Faith let her sorrow tumble. The day would be one of the worst of her life, if not the worst, and Miranda vowed to do anything and everything in her reach to ease just one ounce of her girlfriend’s suffering.The moment came to its natural conclusion when there were no tears left to cry and voices were dry. When they eased apart, Miranda, over Faith’s shoulder, met the recognisable shadow of Fiona a few metres away. A solemn smile was shared between them and for a moment Miranda thought that the widow was going to turn away but to her surprise she approached them. They shared a knowing look as Miranda held onto Faith’s hand and Fiona moved to her daughter’s side, exhaling a cloud of condensation against the hilly cold. Miranda turned to her girlfriend, knowing what she had to do. “I’ll see you back at the house?”Faith nodded as if bracing herself for a storm and Miranda stifled the scars of pain which her girlfriend’s sadness drew into her heart. They parted ways with the reluctant letting go of hands, Miranda walking away from the scene of a mother and daughter who were united in grief. Life rebuilds, it always does, and a period of mourning holds highs and lows.Faith threw herself into her studies, into acting, and bettering her relationship with her mother. Things improved, for Miranda called Fiona ‘Fifi’ now, and not in the sarcastic dislike-the-in-law sort of way, and Fiona grew into something resembling warmth to her daughter’s girlfriend.Miranda backtracked on a career change, securing a promotion instead, and helped her parents with the restoration of a one bedroom apartment on the outskirts of Islington. The project, something her parents purchased to rent, was dropped into her hands quite literally by a silvery key.“It’s yours.” her dad announced, one day, out of the blue with the news delivering the sudden drop of a paintbrush. “If you want it.” (Miranda did, for the record.) Charles laughed as he came close to being knocked from his feet by the ensuing hug, risking death when his daughter squeezed hard and brushed wet paint onto his suit. “Your mother and I thought this place would make a splendid first apartment for you and Faith, and who were we to turn down this hidden gem?”“Oh, dad! It’s perfect!” Miranda gushed, thanking her parents until the two worded and ever grateful ‘thank you’ grew tired.The new era - the imposing ‘twenties’ - dawned with happiness. They moved into together in the following May and domestic bliss ensued.Their relationship was solid; their togetherness far greater than the literal physical elements of living under the same roof or sharing the same bed but they helped.“I’m going to be late.” Miranda said, during one midweek morning, pulling away from plump lips. Continuity staying true, her resistance to salvaging enough strength to pull herself away remained solid. ‘Going to be late’ was an understatement when her girlfriend drew her back into a kiss, the warm covers they were wrapped around settling as a strong argument. “And you are not making this any easier.”“So, don’t go.” Faith said, playing devil’s advocate. “Call in sick. Spend the day with me, here.”“You are…” Narrowed eyes reflected obvious love and adoration, “a bad influence.”“Being bad,” Faith leaned in, their lips grazing, “is just such devilish fun.” She pushed closer, instinctively, angling her head and their mouths tangled together. The soft moan which escaped Miranda’s mouth added a further layer of desire between them and Faith’s hands glided through strands of bed hair, the power of the kiss causing Miranda to momentarily forget that she had an office to phone in sick to.Faith smiled against Miranda’s lips, once thoroughly kissed, as she eased back, hands caressing her girlfriend’s sides, the touch soft and intimate. Their noses brushed, Eskimo style, and Faith sighed, now accepting that their moment had to be paused.“I guess you’ve got a call to make.” Faith laughed. “Are you going to put on a voice and exaggerate a cough?”“Any recommendations?” Miranda rolled onto her side, reaching for her phone on the bedside. “Or tips for accumulating a fictitious and oh so sudden illness? You’re the actor.”“Dry voice.” Faith said at once, in her own version of a ‘dry voice’, and Miranda laughed in disbelief, simultaneously amazed and amused. She threw a pillow at her girlfriend in retaliation for her skilful talent.“I’m going to take this into the kitchen before they see through my very weak plan and I meet the cold embrace of unemployment.”“Try being an actor.” Faith returned, amused, tossing the pillow which had bumped her side towards her girlfriend as she slipped from the room. “We invented unemployment!” They got drunk on expensive champagne at family weddings, out danced the elders situated around the venue halls and met the early hours of the mornings with disoriented eyes.“Why didn’t you marry mum?” Miranda asked during one wedding, when those type of questions often settled on her mind. Her dad’s answer always remained the same.“It was raining.” he would say and Miranda, reaping the full effects of champagne and the butterflies from watching Faith twirl and dance across the venue hall, would just shake her head in disbelief before telling her dad that his reasoning was a weak excuse.They were cultured by West End shows, by last minute box office tickets, ran throughout the city late at night hoping to chase down a lost cab home and celebrated life’s happy and sad anniversaries.For the third anniversary of Faith’s father, flowers were laid at his graveside, long ago aided by a stone engraving and they never let go of holding each other’s hand.“I hate that he missed out on all of this.” Faith said, quietly. “The flat. My play at the Playhouse. Mother becoming a functioning human being. It’s like he died so that she could live.”“Don’t say that.” Miranda watched as her girlfriend adjusted the flowers resting against the gravestone. “You and I both know that’s not true.”“Yet it feels like it.”“When will she be here?”“In about an hour or so. I told her we’d meet her here.”“I got her flowers but they’re back at the flat.”“I wouldn’t worry. They might wilt and die from the coldness of her heart.”Miranda knew she wasn’t supposed to laugh but she did. Fiona, although improved, remained a distant figure. She often wondered how someone who had since her childhood reminded her of Cruella de Vil came to be her father’s best friend.Faith joined in on the laughter and she looked to her dad with much languish. “See what we’ve become without you?” she murmured. “Still insulting as ever.”“He’d be proud.” Miranda slid an arm around her girlfriend. “And laughing.”And life without laughter, they knew, is no life at all. Another wedding. Another dance. Another kiss.The Flying Lizards’ version of ‘Money’ was playing while they danced and spun, bumping shoulders with the aunts and uncles who weren’t really ‘aunts’ or ‘uncles’ per say just the best friends of their parents. Faith laughed, her sides in stitches as she pulled Miranda close.‘We Are Family’ played as soon as the preceding song ended and the happiness reaped by the room was infectious. The night eventually concluded with ‘I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)’ and Miranda wondered when her parent’s friends and relatives would eventually stop getting married.These were the moments that coloured the years. That particular summer wedding held notoriety because they got engaged.It happened sporadically as they stood outside the venue, the sky above them a third guest to the unfolding moment, after they slipped outside for a walk after an evening spent dancing.The historic house playing host to the reception retreated into shadow as they walked towards the running fountain that stood stark and complimenting to the garden. They were the only guests outside, the others smart enough to stay inside now that the sun had fallen for the day.Miranda clutched a champagne glass as they dashed across the gravel towards the monument. The three tier classical stone fountain that was before them had been the backdrop to the bride and groom’s earlier photographs. Miranda eyed it fondly through champagne clouded eyes, watching as the water cascaded into the bottom bowl.Faith waited patiently for her girlfriend to turn around before she took a deep breath and bent down in one knee. She took Miranda’s free hand.“I always knew.” she began, holding Miranda’s hand as her gaze settled on the scenery; the relaxing harmony of the cascading water and Miranda’s prettiness in the dress she wore. “That it was you.”Miranda swayed, placing her champagne into the depths of the fountain. She blinked, unable to process what was happening. The emotions she felt formed watery in her eyes.“And it’s always been there to greet me.” Faith continued. “Everlasting. A little whisper telling me; you’re the one. I always listened, I mean, how could I not?” Miranda’s gaze rested on the dimpled smile and she wiped away a falling tear. “And I want the next one of these excessive, exuberant occasions to be ours.” Faith paused to exhale, nervously grinning when her girlfriend mirrored the motion. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Every day, forever.”“Yes.”“Yes?” Faith exclaimed. She hadn’t even phrased the question.“Yes.” Miranda gripped her girlfriend’s hands, excitement overtaking her face. She felt overcome. “Yes, yes and yes!”Faith leapt to her feet and they kissed, tangling together in a moving searing kiss which felt like it was never going to end. They swayed together, eventually breaking apart when touch was sated and the weight of the next chapter in their life began to bloom.“It gives me pleasure to say, I do so take your hand in marriage.” Miranda said jestingly, out of breath and between kisses. “We’re engaged!”Faith kissed her again and she drew back, the moment suspended in unmitigated jubilation. They sort of leaped together, equally desperate to run inside and share the news.“We’re engaged!” “We’re going to be wives.”Every so often those five words were giggled excitedly - mostly by Miranda - when thoughts turned to their forthcoming nuptials.Although their wedding remained many months away, everything had been set. The venue, St James’ Church of Islington, would see them marry in the following March. The time; 2:30pm. They would be married before Miranda's twenty-fifth birthday.“When we’re married…” Faith would say, usually accompanied with a glass of wine in hand, following up the words with some domestic scenario that seemed all the more desirable when uttered with the engagement rings they wore on their fingers, for the addition reflected the weight of many years of love.“When we’re married,” Miranda would mock in response, “I’m going to love you even more than I do now.”Faith admired the statement too much to deconstruct it with her usual teasing repartee and could only smile.“Your dad made a request.” Faith said once, when last minute preparations were unfolding and they were picking out bouquets or - more accurately - bickering over bouquets.“What for?”“To have George Michael on the reception playlist.” Faith struggled to stifle laughter from overtaking her voice. She snorted. “He said ‘you’ve got to have Faith, Faith, Faith.’” A notable pause was then delivered. “‘Faith.’”“No!” Miranda laughed, shaking her head in embarrassment and in disbelief. She winced as she asked. “He didn’t actually say that, did he?”Faith nodded proudly. “Oh, he did. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She proceeded to walk away, turning around to beam. “Everything makes so much more sense now!”“You compare my humour to a dad joke and you still want to marry me.” Miranda floated towards her fiancée. She ended the distance between them by leaning in close. “A dilemma even Elizabeth Bennet did not have to contend with.” Miranda giggled. “It must be true. It’s love.”The months slid past and soon it was New Year.New Year indicated that their wedding was just over three months away and each day it crept closer.Faith auditioned and gained the lead of a West End play, and her mother attended attended opening night.Miranda was backstage before the show went live, where she found it hard to subdue the proudness she felt as she watched Faith pace back and forth, running through last minute line preparations.“Break a leg, fiancée.” Miranda said when it was time for her to join her future in-law in the seated audience behind the curtain. “Good luck.”They kissed before parting ways. Miranda’s final vision before Faith emerged on stage ten minutes later was of excited and twinkling brown eyes.Opening night went well and when the final curtain fell, as in the lights dimmed, Miranda leaped into a standing ovation, grinning at Fiona who joined her. The leads bowed, the thunderous clapping not quite masking the proud words Miranda whispered into Fiona’s ear.“That’s my future wife.”Fiona smirked her proudness, passionately applauding just as Miranda was. “That’s my daughter.”The subsequent months blurred and soon March arrived. The fifteenth to be exactly.Remaining true to tradition Miranda spent the night before the wedding back at her parents house and Faith at her own.“You would have to fall for my best friend's daughter.” Fiona told her daughter with an air of lightness as they sipped wine in the confines of the kitchen. “Charlie is already practically family but I didn’t foresee this happening all those years ago. She’s a beautiful girl. Gets it after her father but don’t tell him I said that.” Faith beamed. “I only wish your father were here to see how happy you are.” Fiona paused and Faith realised that the near empty bottle of red was partly to blame for the sudden onslaught of emotion on both of them. “I do miss him deeply, you know.”“As do I.” Faith assured honestly.“He would’ve given you away if he could have.” Fiona placed her glass down, awkwardly shuffling until she had pulled her daughter into an embrace. “I’m so sorry that he was denied of ever getting the chance. Life can be so undeniably cruel.”Faith squeezed her mother, scolding the wine for making them both so emotional and sentimental, before they drifted apart.“He’ll be there in a way.” Faith said, dreading the sadness which was imposing on such a happy night. “I’m quite sure of it.”“You’re growing up so quickly.” her mother said, touching her face. “Your father would be proud, as I myself am.”A similar situation unfolded across the other edge of the borough as Miranda’s parents raised their glasses to a happy marriage.“This doesn’t feel quite real.” Miranda admitted, after three nervously excited sips of champagne. “All those weddings… and now my own.” Miranda breathed out, slow. She clutched her beverage with much force, such were the blitz known as overwhelming nerves. “To my best friend.”“Only marry your best friends.” Carrie grinned, clinking their glasses together much to the annoyance of Charles who decided that he was the target of such a comment.“Solid advice from your mother.” he said, quickly, averting his gaze. “You two are meant to be. There’s no denying it.”“She’s… everything to me.” Miranda glanced at her parents, cheeks reddening. “A day like tomorrow only confirms it.”“It’s only natural to be nervous.” Carrie said, leaning in as they sat in their living room. “It’s the night before your big day!”Miranda nodded, expressing a toothy smile as she took another sip of champagne. She wondered what Faith was doing in that moment before she silenced the thought, drew the glass away from her lips and gushed; “We’re getting married!” All talk of wedding day jilting - of last minute escapes in an Uber - were laughed off and Miranda walked down the aisle of St James’ Church of Islington shortly after 2:30pm, as arranged, on Friday afternoon.Their love was sealed by the worst vicar to ever officiate a wedding, the minor hitch ignored by both parties as the ceremony concluded. Kisses were shared, giving way to an afternoon and evening of celebrations.Champagne was poured as a prelude to the meal with many congratulations shared and the reception hall filled while the bride and bride moved around the room. The cake was cut and pictures were snapped. Traditional speeches were delivered with a succinct modern twist which perfectly segued into post-wedding dance floor antics.“God knows we’ve danced at enough of these.” Faith said, spinning Miranda underneath her arm. “To last a lifetime.”Miranda spun back into her embrace. “All the stage practice in the world and you still can’t dance.” Faith chuckled, emphasising an eye roll in response. “And at your own wedding!”They moved in time to the beat of the music, drawing one another close. “We’ve been married for five minutes.” Faith said, embracing Miranda from behind as she deadpanned. “It’s not too late for a divorce.”Miranda giggled, spinning herself around until she faced her wife. The title would take some getting used to. She looped her arms around Faith’s neck, keeping in time to their dance. “Oh,” she began, “you are… so…”“So adorable.” Faith interjected, smoothly, breathing in her wife’s intoxication. “So your wife. So never letting you go.”“You’re not off the hook, you know,” Miranda’s gaze flickered between Faith’s lips and her eyes, “for that little comment.”“I’m sure I’ll make it up to you.” Faith murmured, the subtext of the vision springing into Miranda’s mind all too present.“Maybe we should leave our own wedding early.”Their lips met, slow and soft.“Maybe we should.” Faith caressed Miranda’s waist, suddenly serious. “But first, I’ve got a dance-off to win.”“Win?” Miranda scoffed, rising to the challenge. “Oh, shameless optimism. Don’t you love it?”And they danced and danced until they could no more, until champagne greeted them on silver plates and they sought refuge back at their table. If you weren’t tipsy at your own wedding then you weren’t attending your own wedding.The dance-off had ended until, that was, a certain George Michael song began to echo throughout the speakers. Somewhere in the crowd, Charles punched the air, a development which caused Faith to laugh.“This is your song!” said Miranda - in delighted amusement - and she proceeded to grab onto Faith’s hand, proudly pulling her back onto the dance floor. The wedding ends and the marriage begins.Faith was the first to wake the following morning.The hotel room flickered into focus through tired eyes. The early morning sun shone bright through the curtains of the spacious room and she shifted on her side, all too aware of the protective arm and body which hugged her closely.Miranda lay peacefully in her sleep, chest rising and falling contentedly after a night of dancing and the hours spent after retreating to the sanctuary of their room. Faith observed her for over an hour, risking everything when she reached out to push a dishevelled strand of hair from Miranda’s forehead. The breaking point, it appeared, as the touch roused and sleeping beauty was no more.Miranda stirred and her eyes slowly opened. She cuddled into Faith’s side, looking smugly content. “You weren’t supposed to wake before me.”So Faith closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep until she laughed and reopened them again. “Only you could turn this into a competition.”“I like watching you sleep.” Miranda retorted, unabashedly.“Creepy.” Faith teased.“You know what I mean.” Miranda’s sigh was full of contentment and she leaned in, kissing Faith slow and sensuously. “Good morning,” she whispered, when they had eventually drifted apart after deliberation, “wife.”“Good morning.” The best morning. “Wife.”Would they ever be able to refer to each other with the official title without descending into fits of giggles? They remained unsure.“We’re married.” Miranda added, suddenly. “We’re… married. It doesn’t seem quite real because yesterday…” She trailed off as flashes of the day passed throughout her mind. Arriving at the church. The expected but somehow unexpected unfolding splurge of nerves. Her dad’s radiant smile as he walked her down the aisle to the woman she would spend the rest of her life with, the woman who she had woken up with; a novelty that could not possibly wear off.They were snapshots, black and white and in colour, as they rested vividly in the forefront of her mind. Miranda exhaled, content with her gaze resting on the dark brown eyes glinting back upon her and she reached out to caress her wife’s cheek. Maybe she had chosen the wrong moment to get sidetracked by the now committed-to-memory rerun of their wedding.“Yesterday felt like a dream.”A smile spread on Faith’s sleepy face and she inched closer, the white linen sheets shifting as she drew herself in. “Last night felt like a dream.”Faith reached out and clasped Miranda’s left hand, holding up the rings mirrored on their ring fingers. “And then I glance at these, and your perfect hands, and suddenly I remember.”Miranda interlocked their fingers. The touch felt solid, real. “You’re stuck with me. No going back I’m afraid.”Faith squeezed her hand. “What has monogamy done to me?”“It made you my wife.” Miranda dampened her lips before she laughed. There it was again, that word, ‘wife’.“And you mine.” Faith’s dimple appeared as she smiled and they lay back against their pillows, not wishing to ask or acknowledge how late it was. “I guess this is what they call domestic bliss.”“Well, you did put a ring on it.” Miranda waved that very diamond in question as she spoke.“I did.” Faith ran her fingers through Miranda’s hair. “Smart me.”“And we might as well reap the benefits.” Miranda grinned. “Of such an event.”“Of such an event!” Faith mimicked. “Why, it is such a burden!”They remained close when their laughter subsided, lying on their sides. It was by no means a burden to be in love with her best friend, Miranda assured, for it was a blessing, a pleasure. It coloured life’s moments - the highs and the lows - in technicolour, powerful enough to blur the grey.“This adventure... this mad thing we call life, would be unbearable without you.” Miranda’s voice, so soft, supplemented the travelling, soothing touches her fingers danced across Faith’s smooth skin. “And I have never been happier than I am now, to have you by my side.”“Well, there’s no getting rid of me. Not now.” reflected a dimpled smile.“And I am so undeniably glad.”“Is this what they meant by the honeymoon phase?” Faith asked, referring to the warm covers of the king side bed they lay situated in. “Because if so…” she trailed off as she realised that yes this was exactly what the phrase was referring to - the deep feelings of warmth and adoration that they had arisen to - and that their honeymoon phase was only just beginning.The honeymoon in question, i.e the holiday, didn’t begin until Monday, when an afternoon flight would take them to a golden sands of a beach and the complimentary addition of promised sunshine.“A honeymoon before the honeymoon…” said Miranda, closing her eyes as she immersed herself in the welcoming vision before they kissed. “Where do I sign?”As they rolled around, pushing aside luxurious pillows in their enthusiasm, they looked to more adventures and lost themselves in love. Marriage, it arose, had never felt more pleasing and they were more than ready to start.