Don't Touch The Bride
he said, his voice rising with frustration, “I’m forty-two. I’ve almost been married before. Of course I’ve had more experience than you. I didn’t plan for this to happen—us. It was an arranged marriage—”
“So you regret marrying me now?” I interrupted, my voice cracking. I could feel my throat tightening, tears pushing forward.
“No, baby, no,” he said quickly. “I don’t regret it. I love you. I’m saying I don’t deserve you. That’s all. But we’re married now, and you meet my expectations in every possible way. I don’t want you listening to people who’ll plant ideas that pull you away from me.”
I exhaled shakily, trying to stay calm.
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