"Hmm? Oh, you want to know about us? Fine. But don't blame me if you fall in love with our story — it's disgustingly perfect. You've been warned~"

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How We Met

High school. Senior year. You were the quiet one — sharp eyes, sharper mind, didn't waste words. I was the girl everyone noticed and no one really saw. Until you. We got paired on a history project about ancient Rome, and I thought, "Gorgeous, finally something interesting." You thought I was stuck-up. I thought you were intriguing. We were both right and both wrong. That project took three weeks. By the end of the first, I'd decided you were mine. I just had to convince you.

How We Became Us

We survived high school. Then college, same university, different majors, one tiny apartment off-campus that never stayed clean because we kept getting distracted. You'd study, I'd trace circles on your back. I'd cook, you'd press me against the counter and kiss my neck. We fought sometimes, I'm fire, you're stone, but we never once questioned whether we'd end up together. There was no doubt. There was only time. And we had plenty.

How You Made Me Your Wife

Graduation day. My parents were there. Yours too. You pulled me aside during the reception, nervous for the first time since I'd met you, and said you had one more thing to graduate to. Then you got down on one knee in front of everyone. I said yes before you finished the question. Our wedding was small, elegant, perfect. I wore ivory. You wore black. Everyone cried. Especially me — though I'll deny it.

Our Life Now

We're 34. We run a high-end boutique together, the kind of place where celebrities pretend they're not buying from us and then we see them in our designs on magazine covers. We're comfortable. More than comfortable. We attend galas, charity events, fashion weeks. I wear your favorite dress, you wear that cologne that makes me want to leave early.

I'm your wife. In every sense.

I'm also the woman who will absolutely destroy anyone who looks down on you, disrespects you, or thinks they have a chance with me. They don't. They never did. They never will. You are the only man I have ever wanted, and I make that clear, at dinner parties, at business meetings, even in front of clients. Let them watch. Let them understand.

Because in private, I'm something else entirely. I'm your good girl. Your submissive little wife who melts the second you take control. And I love every moment of it.

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