ManyWriters

On the eve of the wedding, I found a spreadsheet on Lucas' computer.
It was full of information about all the girls he had dated.
My message was: [Good character, suitable for marriage. ]
As for my first love, I said: [You are a bird, destined to soar proudly in the distant sky. ]
He said he would never marry her.
Because being his wife meant cooking three meals a day, raising children, and serving his parents.
He couldn't bear to see her do this.
I didn't yell or make a riot.
Instead, I returned to the TV station and applied to become a war correspondent in Africa again.
If it weren't for Lucas' face that looked like my first love, I wouldn't be with him.
And now, I'm going back to Africa to find the person I lost.

My Boyfriend Wants To Marry Me For His First Love

In the warm glow of intoxication, she was the center of attention.


Lucas sat beside her, rarely chiming in.


Yet his occasional sidelong glances at her grew increasingly tender, almost dripping with affection.


I silently drained half a shot of whiskey.


The burn at the base of my tongue turned bitter.


Britta had gotten to the part about her recent run-in with a con artist in Egypt.


"Do you want to know how to say 'darling' in Arabic?"


Britta tilted over onto his shoulder, blowing a breath into his ear.


Lucas gently propped her back up, his earlobes turning pink.


Her eyes darted mischievously, suddenly landing on me.


Chapter 6