I REMEMBER when I was younger, maybe thirteen or fourteen, I went to a little girls birthday party. It was really quite simple, in the family's backyard- quite unusual in the realm that was Westchester, where mothers threw lavishly expensive (not that it was their money they were throwing away on the tasteful two-tier princess cake) parties, hoping to outdo the one the week before.

So like everybody else, I was skeptical.

I remember, walking into the house I had thought that it would be another tea party for a three year old, and a dozen of their parents closest friends children. Boy was I wrong.

I walked through the door of the simple house- a starter home some would call it- and was instantly ushered into the backyard with the rest of the party. Walking back there, I recall blue and pink balloons with pictures of Ariel the Mermaid on them. How tacky i had thought.

The appetizers were served buffet style in the nice bowls that wouldn't break if someone had accidentally knocked them over. Cheap, I had scoffed.

I remember seeing the adorable birthday girl and her sister for the first time in a while. They told a couple of smitten adults the colors of the bubble containers.

They had baby lisps.

I remember the birthday girl not recognizing me at all and waving hi when her mom encouraged her to. I remember how her little hand halfheartedly lifted up to greet me, causing everyone around us to coo.

By then I didn't think the party was so bad.

Then I saw the father.

He was a handsome guy I guess. In his early thirties, one might have even thought that he was out of his lovely wife's league, her being a little chubby and shorter than most.

What had got me to notice him though. was the expression on his face.

I glanced over to look at him every chance I could without getting caught.

It was the way he looked at his wife of, how much was it at the time? Four years?

He looked at her with such love I could not stand it. He stared at her smiling like an idiot while she tried to make her kids eat. He gravitated towards her without even thinking. He truly, honestly loved her.

That was not what broke me.

It was the way he would stare at his children.

He looked at them and pride radiated within his features. They didn't do anything. I had complained. If anything, they just made a huge mess.

He didn't care.

He lifted his little girls into the air when they tried to run past to play with their friends.

He kissed them on the head while holding one up in one arm, and wrapping his other around his wife.

He took so many pictures, running around at every angle to capture the perfect shot of his daughter eating her birthday cake.

He would boast about them to his friends, "She can count to thirty!"

He would go on his knees to comfort his youngest girl when she was upset, and at her age, it was because she didn't get a cupcake yet.

He went inside politely moving past people to grab the pinata, when his wife asked if it was a good time to start.

He rushed to grab his phone and recorded the fifteen second video of his wife lifting their daughter up three feet to pull a string from Ariel's tail, hoping candy would fall.

Somehow you knew he would treasure that video forever.

I remember that, by then, I had had a lump form in my throat. So I excused myself from jumping in to grab a fistful of candy like a bunch of cavemen (even though I wanted to-but would never let anyone know) and went inside to the bathroom.

Walking past the kitchen and the play room I came across a shelf. The shelf took up the entire wall. I walked closer to inspect it, don't ask me why, I bet that slab of wood came with the Swedish meatballs from IKEA.

On the shelf there were pictures. The couple on their wedding day. Their two daughters sitting next to each other, laughing while in identical cheer leading costumes. The husband lifting his wife up bridal style in the park. The first born daughter in her swimsuit smiling at the camera.

On the top shelf there was a sign. The Abeley Family est. 2000.

I stared up at this wall for a while, thinking, until the grandmother came over and laughed 'What a cute family,' I nodded halfheartedly. Jealously.

Because while observing this family, I thought about all the things I had. Fame, fortune, popularity. And the things I didn't have. A dad. Confidence. A real family.

I remember thinking that I was too young to worry about my future. That I had all the time in the world to have my two perfect children and loving husband, while a little red headed girl like me looked on enviously.

I had thought I would meet my prince. And that happily ever after wouldn't be far behind.


I remember when I met him.

That dark haired, 'psychotic husky' eyed boy.

He told me that I didn't need to change anything about myself, I was perfect just the way I was. Funnily enough, that was in the fifth grade.

I remember hiding in a stall at my mothers New Years Eve party, crying my makeup ridden eyes out. I wasn't pretty. Or smart. I didn't want to go on camera to show the world everything I wanted to hide.

'That brown haired girl was right.' I had thought. I was fat.

Then Cam burst in the door- accidentally he claimed- and found me. He was very mature for a ten year old, coaxing me to tell him what was wrong, and spending an hour in the ladies room comforting a stranger.

I remember being embarrassed as a hoard of middle aged women reeking of desperation and Chanel no. 5 came in and stared at us. The crazy redhead gurgling her guts out to the attractive boy in the girls room.

I didn't consider how Cam felt. Just another reason he claimed to love me he once said.


I remember our first fight.

I accused him of cheating and never loving me. When that didn't drive him away I chose a different tactic. I told him all the reasons why I wasn't good enough for him.

I chose him over my friends. That showed how unloyal I was, especially to Claire, oh Claire.

I failed math- twice. I obviously wasn't smart enough for him.

He lost his best friend- my ex boyfriend, because of me.

I was ugly, and fat, and selfish, and inconsiderate.

"Stop." He had yelled. I remember the feeling of shock. He had never yelled at me before. Was he actually going to dump me? That was what I had wanted right? Somehow, with my heart sinking, and my bottom lip trembling, I didn't think so.

At that moment I was afraid.

Afraid at what he would say.

But he surprised me yet again, by telling me that I was the most amazing, beautiful girl in the world. He loved me because of my good qualities, and worshiped me for my flaws.

That I was his best friend.

And that he didn't regret anything.

I remember crying.

He was my knight in shining armor after all, and he would be able to save me from anything. Even myself.


I remember our wedding day.

I had spent hours upon hours planning the perfect wedding. None of it mattered though.

Because from the moment I said 'I do.' The only thing I cared about was us.

'It's us against the world.' He told me.

I believed him. Who wouldn't? His eyes sparkled with tears and adornment as he spoke his vows to me. The most beautiful vows. For the most beautiful girl he had laughed when I complimented him on them.

My life was finally coming together.

And that would only be the beginning of our fairy tale.


I remember our plan.

We were going to have a family, he told me. I nodded.

I would be a mom. Everything was coming into place. The last piece of the puzzle.

I truly was, the luckiest girl.


I remember one horrible day.

I lost the baby, they told me.

I cried for hours. Why me? Why him? Why him...

He doesn't deserve this! I don't deserve him. Everything will always be my fault. I can't take it anymore. Why is it always my fault? Why can't I have the life I had always wanted? I would have been good to my baby. I wouldn't be like my friends, dressing their little ones in uncomfortable clothing, and taking them back from the help only when company was over.

I would have been a good mom.

I would have been a queen.


I remember when I tried to kill myself.

He knocked down the bathroom door and pleaded me to stay with him.

I put one hand on his cheek. It's too late. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

He cried and cried and wouldn't let go of my hand when the paramedics came. I held on too, wishing I had the courage to tell him it would be okay. I would be with our baby soon. Our little girl wouldn't be alone anymore.

No one could hurt us.


I remember waking up in a hospital room.

Cam was sleeping in a cot, still clutching my hand. I remember moving the hair out of his face, giggling at the things I would tease him about when he woke up. When was the last time you showered? I would laugh.

Then I remembered.

And I went into hysterics.

I was supposed to die! I was supposed to be with her! She's just a baby, and she has no one taking care of her.

That was the second and last time Cam yelled at me.

" Did you ever think about me? How I felt? Or were you just going to leave me here by myself? You're the only one I love and I- I don't know what I would do without you."

I looked down. Ashamed.

Because my prince, this is something you can't save me from.


I remember the first time I smiled after what happened.

He got me a dog.

'Just another person who will think the world of you.'


I remember when he died.

It was the darkest time of my life.

I remember getting that phone call- why is it always a phone call?- telling me, that h- he was gone.

I remember talking to the cops.

A shooting they told me.

My husband, my best friend, the only thing I cared about anymore.

He was gone, because a man stole fifty dollars from Starbucks.


I remember speaking at his funeral.

I remember telling our family and friends about all the good times we had.

The bad.

I told them about how he stayed home from work one day to stay and make me soup when I was sick. He got fired, but told me he didn't care. He could always find another job.

It was me who was irreplaceable.

I told them about our baby.

He's with her. They'll be okay.

I told them about how he held my hand, and wouldn't let go for what seems like a year after I tried to commit suicide.

I told them that I regretted not being there to hold his hand while he was probably the most scared he has ever been.

I told them that I couldn't even be there to tell him I loved him one last time.


But now that I'm here, in this hospital bed after all these years, I feel happy.

Because I know, in a short time, I will be with my prince again.

And we will finally have our happily ever after.


A/N I'm really proud of this. Please review! Un-Beta'd so if you see any mistakes, tell me!