She said yes. It wasn't how she imagined, but it didn't matter. Her eyes were full of tears but she couldn't cry. Every atom in her body was vibrating. Champagne was popped and it was like the bubbles were bursting through her veins. She was so happy that she couldn't understand why she had the familiar pang of hurt in her gut. It wasn't doubt. She knew she wanted this - rather, she knew she wanted him. This just wasn't how she imagined. Did it matter? It didn't matter. She was happy. So happy. Can they all tell how happy she looks? She hopes so. It just wasn't how she imagined. And she imagined all the time. She imagined from the time she learned this was something that would happen to her one day, and only once, and that it was going to be such a special and amazing moment that she'd talk about for the rest of her life, and people would ask her about it, and she imagined having the most incredible story, and she imagined how she would tell the story, and she imagined all the special and amazing ways it could happen, and she imagined knowing it was coming, and she imagined being completely and utterly surprised, and she imagined and imagined and imagined. And it just wasn't how she imagined. Did it matter? No. She said yes, and she was happy. It's just that she really loved imagining. And it wasn't how she imagined. And she didn't have the most incredible story. And now there'd be no more imagining. She really loved imagining.