“I’m meeting Patrick after work for a bit, so I may not be home for dinner,” I inform you over my shoulder while stirring the dark liquid in my cup, opting for tea this morning instead of coffee.

I turn to face you properly in our kitchen, offering you a small smile as I lean against the counter. We’ve been close friends for years now, and married for almost one full year now. I’m a local policeman, you’re a schoolteacher, and anyone in our little town would say that we’re an adorable couple.

Except our marriage isn’t really a…standard marriage.

I’m gay, and you’re one of the only people who know this, due to it being illegal and very much criminalized. So a year ago, you suggested that we get married as some sort of way to disguise it. You called it a ‘lavender marriage’ or something. I can’t believe it actually worked.

Even though you somehow support me endlessly, every so often I still feel a little guilt for your selflessness.