"At this same time in 2018, on July 18th, we exchanged our vows and became husband and wife." I'm saying that while Mark is cooking, I should be strolling around the island in our brand-new kitchen and bugging him."I am familiar with the functioning of the calendar." Mark is using his smart mouth in an attempt to convince me to take a seat."Yeah, but today marks our anniversary of being together for a year." I would recommend coming to a complete halt right next to him and displaying him some images from the wedding.I want to reiterate that I am familiar with the operation of the calendar. This time, however, he lets out a chuckle. "OK, go ahead and have a seat. After supper, I'd want to take you somewhere special." Mark tells me that he is putting a plate in the seat next to mine.I get up and make my way over there before sitting down. "Oh, I'm so excited to find out where you've planned our anniversary celebration!" I smirk."This comes as a complete shock to me." He appears to
"Mommy!" I hear yelling as well as loud running footsteps. Kara, Kyle and Willow come running into the kitchen. "Can you finish the story?""Not yet, we gotta wait for daddy and Milly." I dry my hands and lean down to pick up Willow. "Where's Landon?" I ask to go into the living room. I sigh when I see him sitting in front of the TV playing video games. Just like he's been doing with every minute of free time he gets."Come on, go outside and run around, get dirty." I put Willow down next to Landon."But this level is really hard and I can't-" I cut him off by turning off the TV and giving him a no arguing look. "Fine, I'll go outside.""Be a good brother and take your sister to the swing set." I say handing him Willow."Really? It's bad enough I can't finish my game." I put my hands on my hips. "You know what? I have a sudden urge to push my little sister on the swing." He says picking up Willow and walking to the front door."Smart." I call out with a chuckle.Kyle and Kara follow t
Friday evening at 7:00. I'm in my Advanced Calculus class, physically present but mentally drifting. Since I've already grasped the material, I let my mind wander as I doodle in my sketchbook. I start daydreaming about the upcoming summer. My plan is to backpack across Europe, meet new people, and perhaps find romance. I also contemplate my future at school. My dad mentioned that the small business he'll be passing down to me will soon be under my management. I'll inherit it when I turn 21, and I'm currently just shy of 18. It's funny how I brought up "The Sound of Music" movie. In less than two weeks, I'll be turning 18, coinciding with my high school graduation. Quite fitting, isn't it? "Ms. Romero, Ms. Romero. Ms. Romero!" Mr. Martian's urgent voice pulls me from my thoughts, even raising towards the end. Quickly, I close my sketchbook and look up at him. "Yes?" I'm not sure what this is about, but I'm about to find out. "What did you learn?" He asks with urgency. Fortunately,
Charlie came into my room, and we had a hushed chat about what was going on. I felt completely out of the loop. While Mark, my dad, and John seemed to have all the facts, I was left in the dark. Mark had filled me in, and it seemed likely he got the details from his dad due to their recent bet. My head was pounding. As everyone else discussed the situation, I struggled to concentrate. Despite my efforts to stay focused, it felt like being in my Friday math class, where I couldn't answer anything correctly. My dad gently shook my arm to get my attention, but I couldn't snap out of it. "Yes?" I replied, my eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. "How much did you catch of that?" My dad inquired. I shook my head, feeling slightly embarrassed because he probably mentioned something to me. John looked annoyed, but Mark just chuckled. "Well, I made a bet with John here, involving my business, or more precisely, your inheritance. He can only claim what's rightfully his if he or one of his f
After a quiet pause, Mark brings up another aspect. "What else does it say in here?" He skims through the pages and inquires further. I join him in reading. "They talk about weekly dates, going out formally every couple of months, and even planning for a baby in five years?" I blurt out, my face showing both surprise and annoyance. "Do they seriously expect us to stick to such a rigid schedule for having kids? Shouldn't that be a decision we make together? I mean, I do want to have children someday, and I'm not ancient, but turning it into a requirement makes it seem like a chore. And I'm not a fan of chores." John jumps in, saying, "Well, it seems quite reasonable. It's not too demanding," seemingly relieved that we're not arguing about more fundamental aspects, like the marriage itself. I continue reading. "They're not asking for excessive public displays of affection," I add, scanning the document further. "We're supposed to get to know each other's families and friends, and they
By Monday, everyone at school knew I was getting married, or to be more precise, that my wedding was arranged. But, of course, no one knew it was planned. It's like that first rule in Fight Club: don't talk about how things turned out. On Sunday, we took engagement photos after breakfast. We took the pictures strategically, making sure not to reveal the ring, or rather, the lack of one. At least not until Wednesday. We posed with him on one knee, holding a small box. To be honest, it all felt surreal. I pretended to cry to make it seem more authentic. We also took a picture with his face nestled in my neck as we hugged. They looked incredibly real. Most people think they're genuine. We're in this situation because John informed the newspaper about our engagement. Nice, it made the front page. John also insisted we post on I*******m and F******k. I get I*******m, but why do we need F******k? Sorry to say, but everyone on F******k is the same age as my dad. They've read it, so problem
He approaches the counter, and I still haven't looked up. "So, what can I do to help? Earrings or a necklace with diamonds?" he inquires. "No, my girlfriend and I are here to pick out an engagement ring for her," Mark responds. He's quite adept at making up stories. Sometimes, I even find myself briefly believing him. When I finally glance up, I see the familiar face. "Richie?" I inquire. "Well, if it isn't Savi," he replies. Richie's real name is Nick, but I've always called him Richie. It might seem a bit confusing. Richie was like a mentor to me during my freshman year in high school. When I was a freshman, Richie and I were paired up. He guided me on how to interact with teachers and showed me where my classes were. In a way, he was like a guardian angel watching over me. You might still be wondering why we call each other by different names. I don't remember much about how it started, but I do recall that he once asked me for my middle name and the name of my street. I told h
So far, things are going according to plan. Everyone seems to like the dress. I've written a letter to my mom and sealed it, but I haven't sent it yet. I thought it would be more personal to write her a letter instead of just calling her. However, I'm holding off on calling her until she responds. In the letter, I mentioned that I wanted to catch up with her and discuss the wedding dress, but I didn't reveal that I'm getting married or anything like that. I simply expressed my desire to have a conversation with her. I need to send the letter today because it's Monday, and it's been only a week since I got engaged. The wedding is in less than seven weeks, so I want to get in touch with her soon. I plan to send it on my way to school. I'm feeling nervous as I arrive at school, thinking about what her response might be. Fortunately, my first class is in the gym. It might sound strange, but I actually enjoy going to the gym. Just because I like going to the gym doesn't mean I fit the "j