Marrying The Ketchups Novels & Stories

"Now that is the only thing that put our marriage to asunder. He has the money, he should get a cook." Ema folded his arms as he wondered how much of a problem the contract marriage would turn out to be. Their house would have a chimney, he thought. Arguing morning and night, day in and day out would rent their marital home in flames. The chimney would help with emitting all of the heat. "Since you won't be working, you should try and be a nice little housewife." Ema told her dryly. "A nice little housewife? Seriously?" Lila was waving the fork dangerously now and Ema feared she would pierce her spotless face or even her pretty eyes with it.

Giovanna shrugged, leaning her head on my shoulder. “We went out. And he sang me the most beautiful song.” She sighed, making Stella squeal and Hellene’s jaw tick. “Oh, I can already see it on the invitations! Giovanna Persephone Donatello and Raphael Yves, joined together in holy matrimony! I’ll finally be able to brag about one of my daughters getting married!” She said happily, clasping her hands together and holding them against her chest while Giovanna shrunk back in a blush. I noticed Hellene’s expression darken even more and obvious anger developing on her features.

Haley chuckles, “Let’s put it this way — emotionally, they’re one missed poop session away from feral.” “Not feral,” Mel says, “Just layered. Barbaric. With abs.” “Crap,” I sulk. What have I gotten myself into? “So they’re always like this?” “Let’s break it down,” Kiara sighs deeply. “Since you’re new. Consider this your crash course in ‘Should I Marry Him or Tase Him’?”

“Holy shit, that smells amazing! You’re going to make someone a very good little wifey one day.” It’s a running joke—he says I have all the makings of a perfect trophy wife: I cook, I clean obsessively, I stay in shape. I roll my eyes. “If we’re making jokes, the hermit can crawl back into his cave and I’ll keep all the food and coffee for myself. Marcellus will be at the mansion today. Maybe he’ll want some.” “I apologize, oh cooker of meat, provider of sustenance!” Kent cries dramatically, dropping to one knee and wrapping his arms around my legs. “Please forgive me and give me the elixir of life!”

They had no idea what it was like to be trapped in a marriage that wasn’t your choice. “Well, not for long,” Mrs. Karev continued, her voice almost smug. “After this mysterious wedding, the next one is yours, Sasha. And trust me, it won’t be in a garden like this. It will be a destination wedding, the talk of the entire world. You know what I can do, don’t you?”

Merak frowned in disgust and turned to pick up the juice on the table. Chester's eyes darkened and he tried to persuade, "You'd better practice now so that you won't get drunk when you get married in the future."

I declared dramatically, lifting the mug in triumph, “is the greatest creation of any realm. It is warm. It is sweet. It is alive. I will marry whoever invented it.” Marek choked so hard he coughed. The head cook slapped a hand over her mouth to smother her laughter. I blinked. “What. Did I say something wrong.” “No,” Marek rasped. “You… you just cannot say things like that.” “Like what.” “That you will marry someone.” “I said I would marry the inventor of hot chocolate. That is clearly a joke.” “Still,” he muttered under his breath. “Do not say it.” “You are behaving very oddly,” I said, sipping more hot chocolate. “Perhaps you should drink some of this too. It might fix your personality.”

He pretended to be nice to his mom like Miss Daisy was present. Miss Daisy knew nothing about our contract marriage. So, I chalked a plan to make things work in my favor. “Yes, I know! Even I cannot wait to serve them all.” I added whilst putting the enormous plate made him. It was an English dinner. The plate was well decorated with roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, fish and chips, bangers and mash, shepherd’s pie his favorite, Cornish pasty, and many more. I rushed again towards the kitchen, came back with a glass of wine, and poured it into the glass. I placed everything on the table.

"Why would I give him the satisfaction? But feel free to run back to him. I won't stop you." "I wasn't supposed to stay. It was a temporary fix until Camila came back from whatever hole she was in. I only did it because the family would have been slaughtered if the deal fell through." "The deal is dead anyway. Your grandfather is selling the docks to Chicago behind my back." His eyes went wide. "What?" "He’s tanking the merger. So tell me, where is the real bride? Where is my actual wife?" "I don't know. She was in a clinic... she showed up at the gala last week demanding hush money."

The other person remained silent for a long time, saying nothing. Just when I thought he was about to reject me, he suddenly spoke. "Alright, let’s get married." The voice belonged to none other than Hector—the man Simon hired to pretend to pursue me. His tone was gentle as he said, "I’ll pick you up tomorrow." I thought he was joking. But at dawn, my doorbell rang. Rubbing my swollen, tear-stained eyes, I opened the door to find Hector standing there, impeccably dressed.