Thank You. Five years. It had been five years to the day since you told me you loved me. That thought was what filled my sentimental mind as I stared into your warm, loving, perfect brown eyes in that moment. We stood, content in each other's arms in the middle of the wooden floor, surrounded by chairs and tables. We both knew this was the place, it was perfect in every way, just like us. As if on que, a song came on. Do you remember that song? I do. It was our song. Before we were 'us', back when we were just friends. The song we sang together. Together. We swayed on the spot for a bit, feeling the music, and began to dance. Just stepping and twirling; you were never that good, but it was perfect, wasn't it? We were perfect. My eyes welled up with emotion. It was really happening for me. Everything I'd ever dreamed of. The only thing I'd been afraid I wouldn't get. I closed my eyes and leant on your shoulder. You were always so warm, so steady. Now, three years on, I'm staring out the window of a rented flat. We'd had our big, white wedding. It had been perfect. Until two months ago. Until her. I suppose I understand. She was prettier than me, livelier than me. I know now that I was a fool to believe in you. To believe that you'd settle for little old me. All I have is the relief that you hadn't wanted the child. What would we have done with an innocent toddler, confused at the rift between their parents? In the end all I can say is thank you. Thank you for ensuring I'll never be naïve enough to believe again.