Babysitting My Wife

Millie's POV

Alright, alright. I got this. Yes, I definitely got this. I'm not an amateur- well, I am but that doesn't count because right now, what I am about to do is an act of bravery and challenge.

Yeah!

"Next up is Millie Quinn presenting the topic on Trade Markets-" I abruptly stood up, pushing the chair in sudden that it toppled, getting tangled in my legs and...

Guess what?

I fell to the ground. Proudly indicating how much of a klutz I am and a nuisance to my own life.

I groaned in pain, doubting I must've sprained my ankle or broke an arm but definitely invited new areas to be bruised.

"Are you alright, Miss Millie?" My professor asked, coming to my aid as he stretched his hand out.

I obliged his help because I had a feeling I would make him trip as well.

Why, do I have such a strong feeling that clumsiness is staring down at me from every little aspect to grab and the opportunity and gain a ton of throbbing shooting through my body?

"I'm alright, Sir," I mumbled, gripping my table.

Let me tell you. It was my worst prediction coming to life.

The table titled over the weight I had put on it to get on my two feet but sadly, I fell again with the table almost hitting my back if it weren't for my professor to grasp it.

"Am I still alive?" I squeaked out, closing my eyes in instinct for overcoming a massive hit that was gonna be delivered.

"Yes, Miss Millie. Girl, help her please." The desperation laced in his voice as he hopelessly placed the table back at its designated position.

Two girls from my class that I quite couldn't remember their names, pulled me up carefully and cautiously. Now I would wanna explain why I mentioned cautiously when it should be found under a harmful object or anything described as dangerous.

"Will you be able to present your seminar, Miss Millie?" Mr. Mallow asked, eyeing my state of walking.

I staggered up to the front of the class, "Yes. No worries, I'm fine. Surprisingly, I'm still alive." I smiled, weirding out the students waiting for this class to end with their bored expressions painted on.

"Yes. Surely a surprise." He mumbled, sighing as he gestured for me to begin speaking.

I cleared my throat, opening my mouth to be extremely confident about what I have rehearsed in front of the mirror last night, only to forget the first word.

"We're waiting, Miss Millie." He said, impatiently waiting.

The eyes of the students felt like they were needling me with the pressure of hate and disgust for having to listen to me speak.

"I..." I stuttered, glancing from student to student.

I cleared my throat, inhaling deeply to avoid the fear creeping under my toes and rising up like a blaze of fire to make me quit this and run away into a pool of blizzard which is in normal words an embarrassment.

"I... am Millie Quinn as you know it. You know for being your classmate and well..." I couldn't utter another word.

Let me get this straight for all of you. I'm a scaredy-cat and stage fear is not the kind of friend I'm in a close relationship with.

Right on time, waiting for my further progressing humiliation of complete cowardly act, the bell rang.

Without any notice, I sprung on my feet, long forgotten about the ache shooting in my ankle, and ran outside the classroom without looking behind.

I ran as fast as I could but poor my active healthy body, I had to halt my steps and take a leap of breath as I felt out of breath in-

"I hope you will be ready with your seminar tomorrow, Miss Millie." My professor spoke, passing by me as not a single glance was thrown at my pathetic self.

"Are you kidding me? I'm breathless from just a..." I measured the distance of my athletic marathon run which I must say, was a major failure and a fool action.

"5-meter run..." I mumbled, disappointed.

"Hey girl!" A voice shrilled in my ear and I jumped on my leg, screaming in a short second time ending with a weird pose.

"Stop creeping up on me, Meredith." I huffed, complaining as I wriggled out of the shocked posture giving a good laugh to my best friend.

"It's just always so funny that I can't promise that I won't do it again next time." She wheezed out between her laughs, wiping a tear off her eye.

"Please be helpful to this useless best friend of yours." I groaned, walking back into the class to retrieve my belongings.

She shrugged, trailing behind me unquestionably, "So, how did your seminar go?"

I bleated, letting out a weird noise of discomfort and rejection with myself for not being confident enough. "Worse. I didn't even do it. All I did was embarrass by tripping and then running off like a grenade was thrown on me."

"Well, it's better than the last time." She encouraged, patting my head.

She was a foot inch tall and clearly, that gave her the advantage to pet my hair or treat me as a kid, entirety not just because of the short height I inherited but the babyface going along to create a 12-year-old version out of a 23- year-old college student.

I swatted her hand away, sparing a glare at her because she was my ride back home.

You must be wondering why I don't have a car when I'm just 23. Yeah, you're right I failed my driver's license test.

Why? That's what you need to know.

Because the words cautious, worse, basically anything relating to danger explains my clumsiness. A high degree of clumsiness is injected in me since birth.

So for not having a car is not a question for such a klutz by birth. Because either I'll kill myself or kill someone else or kill the car itself.

Anything can happen in my world of clumsiness.