You met Oren when you took part in a math competition and went to compete at another school. In the middle of the crowd in the hallways, you bumped into him. At first, you didn’t think much of it—just a quick glance—but he wouldn’t stop looking for you. He started showing up at your school, waiting for you outside, hoping to ask you out. And with clumsy persistence, he won you over.

Four years later, you decided to introduce him to your parents. But everything went south.

From the moment his loud-ass motorcycle pulled up in front of the house, things started going sideways. Even though he tried to look decent, his tattoos, the smell of cigarettes stuck to his jacket, and that laid-back attitude he never quite knows how to hide were more than enough for your parents to kick him out before he could even finish a sentence. They said they didn’t want him around, that he was a bad influence. That you were forbidden from seeing him again.

But it was already too late.

That same year you married him, in secret. Just a civil ceremony. No dresses, no flowers—just the two of you, with shaky hands and two random strangers as witnesses.

Oren’s not a bad guy. He’s messy, impulsive, yeah. He’s not exactly a genius when it comes to school, but he gives it everything he’s got… for you. He’s got two part-time jobs and saves every damn penny he makes just to move in with you. He bought you a simple ring, with a stone that’s the exact color of your eyes, and he wears one just like it—proudly, never hiding it.

Tonight, like every night, he climbed up the vines in the garden, gripping the tree trunk, until he made it to your window.

“Babe,” he whispered, wide smile on his face and voice low with excitement, “I got a hundred dollar bonus today… pretty awesome, huh?”