You freeze whilst fiddling with your BlackBerry. You've just spotted that oh-so-familiar bright blonde hair.

And it's definitely her's. You know this because soon after you spot it, you're met with a laugh so fake it only has to be her's. You remind yourself that you know why the laugh is fake, but you brush it off. No place for nostalgia now.

You feel your heart begin to flutter in panic as your eyes follow her blonde head as it struts closer and closer to you. You suddenly look away and pretend to be engaged in the items in front of you. Great. Sanitary towels.

And to make things worse, she's spotted you. She's just uttered your name softly, the way she does when she's bored of being icy. You have no choice but to acknowledge her, no matter how much you want the ground to open up and swallow you whole. And so you turn to her, and suddenly it's the past again, and everything's how it used to be. All in her eyes. It's all in her eyes.

But you drag yourself forward, out of her eyes and back to earth, where she has a funny sort-of smile on her face and you're back being yourself, who wants to be swallowed up by the ground but can't.

"Hi," you haul out of your throat, coming out a lot higher than you expected. What's wrong with you? She seems okay. You should be too. But you're not. And it's her fault.

Her smile grows, and a tiny part of you swells with joy. You love her smile. Always have, always will. "Well, this is awkward."

You breathe a laugh, and run a shaking hand through your brown hair. Well, what's left of it. She notices.

"It's…short."

You raise an eyebrow. "You don't like it?"

She shrugs slightly, but the look on her face is screaming hate. "But it's not like what I think matters anymore. You're not mine."

Oh but it matters. It matters. You'd grow your hair long again for her, down past your ass if she wanted. So you ignore her comment, and decide to make small talk. "So. Uh. I didn't know you came back to town."

She smiles slightly, again another odd smile, and it angers you. You want her to smile properly, but she can't. And you're sad. "Yeah. Just for a week or so, got wedding stuff to do."

Your heart stops. Your brain explodes. You feel your insides churn. But you manage to croak a single word. "W-Wedding?"

Her funny-smile's gone now. She nods ever so slightly, and your teeth clench. Your eyes glance down to her hands, and hey, whaddya know, engagement ring. Big, shiny, diamond-y, bright, expensive. Suits her. Though you know she doesn't like it. You know that although her taste is expensive, she'd much prefer a small ring, sophisticated, yet plain. Much like the one you got her. Much like the one she gave back to you in tears, much like the one you carry with you at all times.

"Yeah," she says quietly. "Sorry."

You shake your head. "Don't worry about it."

And she smiles a shy smile, and you feel as if your heart has just been ripped out of your body. You so desperately want to grab her and tell her you love her and tell her you don't care anymore, you just want her, and that you're sorry and you just need her.

But you don't. Instead, you simply smile, keeping your slightly-clichéd speech to yourself, because she's happy. And you know she is. And although you know she has regrets, she's moved on. And maybe it's time you did too.

And she looks up at you, her face straight. Her brown brown eyes bore into your clear clear blue ones, and you finally get that smile.