On the day we chose our wedding rings, my fiancé vanished into thin air.

You had brought me tea and scrambled eggs in bed, and we snuggled together, talking about buying our rings, and then about our wedding later next year.

Then we had chosen the rings. You held my hand and gazed thoughtfully at the ring I liked best, a smile spreading slowly over your face. Then champagne at Selfridges to celebrate. We talked about the beautiful lilac flowers I had chosen for the wedding, the number of bottles of wine we had bought for the day and if we needed more. I felt flushed, excited and content.

We race to get the train home. It screams to a halt and I run towards its open doors. Made it.

I think you’re right behind me — but when I turn around, you’re gone.