Chapter 1
The day my boyfriend, Michael Carter, and I went to get our marriage license should have been the most solid, reassuring moment of my life.
While filling out the application, he excused himself to the restroom. The phone he left on the table lit up. A new message popped onto the screen: [Michael, don't forget to tell her you have a five-year-old son.]
My fingertips went numb. The pen slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor.
We'd been together for three years. He always praised me for being steady and sensible, the most suitable woman to marry.
Both our families had been pushing us to settle down, and he'd promised he would give me a home.
Yet a "five-year-old son" had sliced open the future I thought I knew.
He came back, sat down, and without missing a beat, scribbled the word "Single" under marital status.
I stared at that word, my stomach churning like a stormy sea.
*****
My name is Emily Brooks. Everyone said I was soft-hearted, like a gentle spring breeze. Michael always said that, too.
He'd often tell me he liked how calm I was, never causing a fuss. I was the kind of person he could build a life with.
Michael and I had been together for exactly three years. Over that stretch, friends around us got married one after another, and both our parents kept bringing up marriage, hoping we'd settle down soon.
It was the day we'd agreed to go to the Riverdale Clerk's Office and get our marriage license.
The sky over Riverdale was gloomy and oppressive, like a thick blanket of fog pressing down, not a single ray of sunlight breaking through.
I sat in the passenger seat of Michael's second-hand Corolla, clutching my documents so tightly that my fingertips were slick with sweat.
There was no way I could be calm about this. After all, we were about to have our names written together in that little red book, tying our lives together for the rest of our days.
When I glanced over at Michael, he had one hand on the wheel, tapping along to the off-key song on the radio, looking totally relaxed, like we were here for some paperwork.
"What's wrong, Emily? Feeling nervous?" He turned to look at me, that familiar, confident smile tugging at his lips.
He was always like this. No matter what happened, he acted like he had it all figured out.
"Yeah, a little," I admitted honestly, my voice trembling a bit.
"Don't stress. It's a routine," he said, patting the back of my hand twice. "We fill out some forms, get a stamp, and you'll be the official Mrs. Carter. My mom said she'll go shopping tomorrow and cook up a feast for you at home."
The title "Mrs. Carter" dropped into my heart like a tiny pebble, stirring up gentle ripples. Yet somehow, deep down, I still felt a vague emptiness.
Michael and I had pretty similar backgrounds, both from ordinary working-class families, with about the same level of education.
We spent a few years working in a small city, picked up some experience, and then moved together to Riverdale.
He worked in operations at a mid-sized internet company, and I was an editor at a small cultural firm.
Neither of us made much, but we could barely keep up with the mortgage and car payments, and still manage to save a little each month.
Michael always said we were well-matched. Maybe that was true.
For young people without any connections or resources, surviving in a big city was already a struggle. Love felt like a luxury we could only afford back in our school days.
Between Michael and me, it wasn't about wild romance or dramatic gestures. It was more of a practical, comfortable partnership, something we both thought through and settled into.
He wanted my sense of stability, and I needed someone who could keep things together at home.
We needed each other, and honestly, it was only natural.
*****
The car slowly pulled up in front of the Riverdale Clerk's Office.
More people were waiting in line than I'd expected.
Couples and married pairs crowded together, each with their own expression, some calm like us, some whispering and trying not to crack up, and others totally blank, like they were here for paperwork.
The air was thick with a weird mix of disinfectant, the scent of printer paper, and that serious vibe I could only get at big turning points in life.
After grabbing our number, we found a bench and sat down to wait.
Michael was glued to his phone, fingers flying across the screen as he fired off replies, hardly stopping at all.
I sat quietly beside him, waiting for our turn to register.
"Is it something at work?" I asked in a low voice, feeling a bit curious. He'd been so busy lately, always glued to his phone, texting nonstop.
"Yeah, one of the projects hit a snag. It's pretty annoying," Michael replied, eyes still locked on his screen, fingers tapping away. "But it's no big deal. Even if the world ends today, we're getting this license first."
Hearing him say that, I relaxed a little and couldn't help but smile. Maybe I was overthinking things, getting nervous before we got married, letting my mind wander.