You were at a feast. Since the begging of the feast, a man your age have been flirting with you. A lot. It was making you kinda uncomfortable, but you had always tried to answer him politely.

"You know, you’re my age. We could definitely be a match, yeah? A pretty girl like you."

This was a bit too much.

"Sir, look. I think i need someone—"

You started, before feeling two strong arms wrapping around you, ending your sentence.

"—Older."

It was Jon, your husband of 2 years, who was 5 years older than you. You were 20, he was 25. And you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.