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You wonder if she remembers the empty promises, "we'll never be strangers." You hope not. You see her across the room she looks happy enough now.

You remember the fights the tears gushing down her face onto your pillow. All the frustration and anger. Why couldn't she understand? You rememeber the consolation lies you told her as you held her and thought of someone else.

You remember the smell of her hair in your bed on your pillow. You remember the secrets the laughs and the then-future. You remember her softness as she lay wholly as she was in your bed. You traced your finger on her waif silouhette: the outline of a girl. You'll love her forever that's what you thought; I'll give her the world she is my world and she doesn't even know.

This was before the war broke out. But there was never a war, just falling out of love.

She smiles at you just as you turn away to your fiancé, "Who is she? Why does she keep looking this way?"

To which you answer, "I don't know her."