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Forty seven

James' father stood up from the couch, and hurried to me. His eyes were broadened. He moved his lips, but he was unable to say anything. I tightened my fist, gulped, resisting the itch to cry. 

"My dear, you want to… get married to my son?" he questioned. 

I nodded, wearing a stern look. "Yes. I'm not just accepting the proposal. I want it to be done as soon as possible. If you want it to happen in two days, so be it," I announced. 

He gaped. "Two days? Wow, that's great! I don't mind at all. I can—"

"Woah, woah." James walked to us. He held his hand up, wrinkling his face as if he was irritated. "I'm the one getting married. Two days is too short for me. It doesn't even… make any sense."

I turned to him. "If you prolong it, I might have no choice but to change my mind."

"No, no. That won't happen." His dad stood in front of

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