Flicking through a magazine, I folded down the corner of another page.
Exactly what I want, I grinned to myself. It was 2017 and I was sifting through wedding mags again.
Mesmerised by pictures of beautiful brides in their princess gowns, I was envious.
Me and my partner Matthew, then 26, had been together for three years.
And I was desperate for him to ask me that question. Hint after hint, yet he still hadn’t proposed.
I was getting impatient. Told myself if I didn’t get engaged by 30, I didn’t want to get married at all.
I was 29, and time was ticking.
But truth was, I understood why Matthew hadn’t asked. ‘£30,000!’
I’d gasped when we’d speculated about the figures for our dream wedding.
Still, maybe one day..?
So, closing the mag, I placed it on the coffee table as one final hint.
A few days later, my brother Christopher, then 26, popped over for a catch-up.
As kids, we were inseparable. And even now, we were super close.
Making us a cuppa, I found Christopher in the living room flicking through my magazine.
‘Hands off!’ I teased. ‘That’s for Matthew to find.’
He chuckled.
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