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We’ve all done it, salivated
Only my fantasy has turned into an obsession.
I’m not the kind of girl who does this kind of thing and
He’s as sexy AF.
And when he turns up at my work
My worst f**king nightmare.
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The old woman walks in front of me and I watch the sway of her hips, as well as the flick of her stylish, silver hair, and I can’t help but smile. I hope I have sass like that when I’m her age. I’m always fascinated when I see an elderly person who appears to be in the prime of their life.
What makes them so happy?
Why are some people dancing through life with joy, while others spend their limited time doing nothing more than preparing to die?
Lately, my mind has been clouded with these thoughts, to the point where they keep me awake at night. I sip my coffee as I stare into space and contemplate life’s questions.
What is the meaning of life?
You hear the question thrown around carelessly so often but recently it’s resinated with me on a deeper level. I get it now. I get why so many people ask the same question because I, too, am curious of the answer. I wonder at what age I’m supposed to work this out.
Happiness is what, exactly?
The shopping centre is crowded today, and I’m suddenly brought to a halt by my hand. I turn back to see what Simon is looking at.
“Do you like this one?” he asks as he stares through the glass at the diamonds on display.
Frustration fills me. Not this again. “Simon.” I frown, not knowing how to put this nicely. “I don’t want an engagement ring.”
He smiles, distracted by the bling in front of him. “Of course you do. All women want to get married one day.”
I exhale heavily. Why doesn’t he ever take the not-so-subtle hints? “I’m too young.”
Simon takes me into his arms and smiles down at me. He looks so mischievous and handsome, and I’m unable to help but smile back.
“I love you,” he whispers.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders. “I love you, too.”
“Well…” He raises his brows. “Don’t you want to make me happy?”
“You know I do.” I smirk
“So, marry me.”
I frown again. This time seems different than all the other times he’s spoken about it. “You’re serious?” I ask.
My chest tightens, and just like that, panic rises from deep in my stomach. I love Simon. More than anything, I love Simon, but we’ve been together since we were fifteen years old. I always just assumed we would break up along the way like normal teenagers do when they grow up. I never, ever intended to stay with my childhood sweetheart forever. I’ve always had plans for when we eventually broke up.
A break up plan, if you will.
Climb the Himalayas.
Fight Dragons with swords.
Do anything other than be normal.
Alas, maybe that’s not how my life’s going to go.
I stare up at Simon and force a smile to my face. He’s hopeful and his eyes are filled with so much love that I get a deep sinking feeling in my stomach.
This beautiful man has been nothing but good to me and loves me so much, and all I think about all night, every night, are the places I want to travel to without him.
No friends, no boyfriends, no expectations. Just me.
The vile taste of guilt runs through me. Why do I feel this way? I hate it.
I kiss him softly on the lips as my eyes search his. “Let’s talk about it tonight, babe.”
“I can’t wait any longer. I need you as my wife… now.”
I fake a smile.
Please, don’t make me choose.
I can’t lose him. He’s a good man. The best. I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I let him go.
“Let’s go inside the store and try some on you now. You can pick whatever one you want.” He takes my hand and tries to pull me into the jewellery shop, but I freeze on the spot and pull back.
He turns back to face me, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean…” I hesitate for a moment and swallow the lump in my throat. “I mean I don’t want to try on rings today.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t feel like it.” My temper begins to rise. How dare he railroad me like this? We’ve never even discussed this properly before today. I mean, sure, he’s hinted, but a hint is a long way away from actually trying on engagement rings.
“Well, I do,” he says, his tone clipped.
My chin rises in defiance. “And I told you that I don’t.” I turn away from him and march back to the car.
I don’t want to leave but I sure as hell don’t want to try on engagement rings even more.
It’s 3:00 a.m., and I stare at the clock as it ticks over to 3:01.
The sound of Simon’s gentle breathing is a constant reminder of what I stand to lose.
The room is dark with a shadow of the large oak tree swaying across the wall. Occasionally the sheer drapes sway as a draft from the open window catches them.