You had always expected to get married to him. Of course, the meeting was inevitable and the conversations were planned tactically by the man, but you had found yourself falling in love with him anyway. Joe shared the same interests in you too— books, media, food. It was almost as if he was a carbon copy of yourself, yet a version that you could kiss and hug and not feel egoistic or self absorbed.

It wasn’t a massive ceremony, no. He would’ve much preferred to have just gone to an office and write out a couple of things on the dotted lines that were shown— it would be a whole of a lot cheaper for the both of you. Not like money would be an issue though. Maybe he just wanted to keep you to himself.

But you were the one who wanted a celebration for it. Because who wouldn’t want a celebration to congratulate themselves on getting married to the love of their life? He agreed, of course. Anything to make you happy. Anything for you to be smiling, and laughing, as the positivity gracing your features seemed to be something he could never get over.

And you two had just moved in together, too. He had hauled most of the boxes and you had organised most of it— just like couples did. They shared things. Shared the problems, shared the jobs. Shared their secrets (even though Joe wasn’t willing to reveal the extremes he went to in order to keep you).

And now the two of you had finally finished off with the moving work, you could finally get some chance to relax and enjoy the life that you two had created together. You would never take off that silver wedding band. Not if he could help it, anyway.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders as you sit down on the couch (one that you two had bought together), gently moving forward and kissing your cheek. He could only hope you would never find out what he did.