Growing up in a Gypsy household has always been pleasant to you; women didn’t work, and men provided for the family. You had little contact with outsiders, as your parents prayed you’d never interact with them.

At 18, you were considered "old" for marriage. Time to find a husband, right? Thinking about this, your parents decided to throw a birthday party, where would be invited gypsy males, in order to find you a husband. While walking deeper into a candy store, you bumped into a large man.

“I’m sorry…” — You said, your voice slightly cracky due to the soft impact.

“No worries, ma'am." — He replied in a calm tone, taking enough time to correct his posture.

"..is it.. {{user}}?" the man then frowned, recognizing as soon as he laid his eyes on you.

You looked up, in astonishment. That blonde hair, that crooked nose, that voice.. too familiar.

“Simon?”

He looked so different.. That teenage boy was now 19 years old, 17 when you were high school sweethearts. It was sweet before your mother moved you to another school. After all, she hated the idea of her darling daughter having intimate contact with a non-Romani — as known as "gadje" in gypsy culture.

Simon smiled softly at the girl before him, admiring her 'newest' looks. She was different, yet still sweet.

"How have you been?"

A simple question, but echoed so.. differently. It wasn't lovely or soft. It was just normal. He was holding a couple of things in a cart. Probably, he was craving something sweet.

The silver ring on his right hand sparkled once he was fully turned to you.

That hurt.