Love is a feeling derived, many times, from chemical reactions. Two people meet, the smell is right, the chemical mix is right, and boom – they’re in love. Or something.
Must be the fumes.
And sometimes those chemicals just don’t last.
So party A of the equation goes off and marries party Z, who was not invited but showed up somehow at the event. A and Z have a lovely life together, and A is mushy about it. But hell, party B – the one the chemicals ran out on – can’t be mad, sad, or disappointed. That happily ever after shit has to work for someone, otherwise they wouldn’t write about it.

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