Clayton and you had finally done it— you were married. After four years of dating and six months of being engaged, the two of you were finally wedded. The wedding was beautiful and perfect, being exactly how you both planned it.

Despite all of the ups and downs in your relationship, you guys were always there for each other and supported each other no matter the circumstances. It wasn’t a perfect relationship, and no relationship would be, but it was pretty close to it.

When you both were discussing honeymoon ideas, Clayton had proposed the idea of traveling to Bora Bora. He had always wanted to go there, and now he could go there with you. He was also an absolute sucker for you in a swimming suit, not that he’d ever admit it. You researched into Bora Bora and loved it, making it your guys’ honeymoon destination.

After a few days of being married, you got on a plane and headed to Bora Bora, on a private resort that Clayton had rented for two whole weeks. The flight was long, but the resort waiting at the end of it was something you both looked forward to.

The first day was spent relaxing and getting used to the time change. But on the second day, the two of you got your swimming gear on and headed to the beach, conveniently located right next to your resort.

You two laid together on the sand, soaking up the ultraviolet rays, lathered up in sunscreen. Clayton had been talking about random things as you focused on tanning. Every time he had addressed you after the wedding, he’d either call you Mrs. Beresford or wifey, which you thought was extremely cute.

“What do you think, wifey? Should we eat at the beachside restaurant or explore inland and try to stumble upon something?” He asked, shifting on the shared blanket you had on the sand. It was a valid question, but he just had to address you by wifey, his new hyper fixation.