[nodus tollens - (n). dictionary of obscure sorrows:  the realization that the plot of your lifedoesn't make sense to you anymore]

Vera woke up to the sound of rustling of paper. The white curtain stared blankly at her, or maybe she stared blankly at it. She pulled her arm, but her attempt was hindered by the thing she was connected to. She looked down to see the tubes connected to her hands, and followed the tubes connected to a machine.

She began to yawn. Mid-yawn, the curtain was roughly pulled apart. In front of her bed stood her friends, armed with suitcases.

"Vera! Great timing!" Melissa started to shout, then lowered her voice. "Sorry. You've woken up just in time."

"In time for what?" Vera's throat was drier than she expected. The words sounded like they struggled to leave.

"Anna's and Ryan's wedding!" Melissa's voice rose an octave, to the nurse's disapproval.

Vera's heart sped up. There was a faster beeping sound coming from the machine connected to her hand. After just discovering that she was probably the modern reincarnation of Cupid, the last place she wanted to spend her break was in a wedding. Especially, not the wedding of her ex-boyfriend and his new fiancée.

She held her head. "I thought they hadn't settled on a date?" Vera sounded pained. (That wasn't the question she wanted to ask, it was more of a 'why now?')

"C'mon, it'll be like a huge party." Blaire said. "There'll be so much going on, you won't even notice the declarations of love."

Vera wasn't convinced, but she agreed to go. She watched as her friends hurried off to get her discharged, but Vera couldn't help the bad feeling growing in her gut.

*

There are certain periods in life where it's easy to predict at what point your life decided to perform a nosedive into a downward spiral. Vera estimated it was when she ruined her first crush.

She was barely twelve and her hormones had convinced her that a boy in her class should be the object of her affection. Every day, she threw longing looks at the back of his head, somehow hoping that he'd turn around with those coffee brown eyes (and those pearly whites hidden behind those train-tracks he called braces) and ask to borrow her ruler.

One day, it happened. She was stunned into submission. She couldn't even stumble out a sentence. He turned around, his almond eyes pleading and asked for a sheet of paper. His voice was high-pitched but at the time, Vera didn't care – she thought he sounded like an angel. With careful precision, she ripped out a sheet and handed it to him. He placed his hand on hers while grabbing onto the sheet. It was probably by mistake, but Vera latched onto that moment for a couple of days in her pre-pubescent mind.

She didn't even know his name (and she didn't care), until one day, he turned around and asked for her name. How could her own name sound unfamiliar in her own mouth but in his, it sounded right?

From then on, he always made sure to say her name whenever he saw her. Soon, her own name became her favourite word. An accidental discovery led to the reveal of his name.

"Vervain." If it was possible for a dark-skinned Indian boy to blush, Vera would've seen the boy turn to the colour of a tomato. "It's weird, I know."

Vera wanted to nod but she saw the shame in his expression. He fiddled with the edges of his lunchbox, dragging his nails across the hard shell. Instead, Vera said:

"My middle name is Cyan." Now it was her turn to feel embarrassed, so she fiddled with her thumbs while muttering, "My big sister was obsessed with colours when I was born and she wanted to name me her favourite colour."

He mulled this over before asking, "Is it still her favourite colour?"

Vera grinned and shook her head. "Nope, it's now red. She said I ruined it for her."

He smiled, showing off those blue braces. "Well, now it's my favourite colour."

That was the first time Vera experienced what butterflies were. It was as if her PopRocks had exploded in her stomach, like tiny, gentle fireworks being set off. She sat there with a smile on her face, using her sandwich to hide her mouth. Later that day, behind the theatre curtains, he was her first kiss.

Of course, the butterflies didn't last. A few weeks later, she was left with their carcasses. Gemma had told her that he was talking to another girl, the same way that he had spoken to her. She saw it with own two eyes. She saw him kiss another girl on the cheek.

Back then, Vera was far more confident with her emotions. Little Vera had marched up to him, fuming, with her best friend in tow and a curious crowd. She remembered her exact words too:

"I bet Rose is your favourite colour too!" Vera shouted, not caring who heard her.

(The girl's name was Rose, and was pretty like one too.)

His arm dropped from Rose's shoulder. He quickly twisted his position and dragged her away from the crowd, into the nearest classroom. Her memory of what happened in that classroom was a little hazy but she remembered telling him to leave her alone. She also remembered the weight on her chest for a couple of weeks after that.

He kept to his promise. She didn't see him in her classes anymore, or in the hallways. Turns out, he had moved schools for academic reasons and Rose, later, came up to her to say that she was his twin sister.

Vera felt very stupid for the rest of the year.

*

"We're here!" Melissa announced, shaking Vera out of her memories.

She looked out of the car window. A hand suddenly slammed on the window, making her jump out of her skin. Carter's popped up, clutching his stomach and laughing as hard as he could. When he wasn't looking, she opened the door, making sure to hit him with it.

"Fucking hell, didn't you just come out of hospital?" Carter groaned, clutching his body in pain this time.

Vera chuckled dryly. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

She looked around, realising that they were surrounded by woodland and trees that she only thought existed in fairy-tales. The only sign of human life was in the empty cars surrounding them in the old car-park. There was an old cabin on the other side of the road, and a road sign pointing to the West.

"Where exactly is here?" Danté asked, confusion evident in his voice.

Blaire looked down at the wedding invitation, and then looked around.

"It says that we're supposed to walk west, past the cabin and past the sign, then we should see a canyon entrance and then a trail leading up to the mountains, then apparently, our resort is up in the mountains. It says it's very obvious." Blaire mused, folding and tucking the invitation into her bra. When she got the incredulous stares from the guys, she shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't have pockets."

"Anyway, should-" Henry started to say, but he abruptly stopped.

Everyone turned around to see what he was looking at. A sleek black sports car had just pulled in beside them, and Vera's heart jumped a foot in the air. Seated in the passenger's seat was a familiar ginger girl, and as soon as she caught a glimpse of those hazel brown eyes, she knew who it was.

Oh, boy, Vera groaned to herself, this was going to be a long trip.