~FUTURE WIFE~
Raffy woke up before me, quiet as ever, careful not to disturb my sleep. But old habits die hard—he bent down and pressed a soft kiss on my forehead, just like he had been doing every morning since we got together.
He got ready, then sat near me, staring at my sleeping face. A sigh escaped him. "Should I ask her to go with me or leave her here? No… I can't leave her. She'll mind it. She'll never understand my point of view". His lips curled into a small smile. *Isn't it good, though? I'll finally get to see her in traditional clothes today.* He laughed softly to himself, then leaned closer and started tickling me awake.
I groaned, twisting and giggling under his hands as he cuddled me closer, refusing to let me hide under the blanket. "Stop, Raffy!" I laughed, swatting at him half-asleep.
When I finally woke up properly, rubbing my eyes with a pout like a sulky child, I had no idea he was sitting there, quietly admiring me.
"I'm ready," he said suddenly, "and leaving. I told you, so you won't be scared about where I disappeared."
I froze, my sleepy pout shifting into pure shock. My mouth fell open, then I smacked his arm. "Whyyy? I have to go too! Why are you not taking me? Are you scared that I'll steal your parents away—since I never had mine?" My voice trembled as I threw in a little emotional blackmail.
He only rolled his eyes.
"Or…" I lowered my tone, pretending to sulk, "…are you embarrassed of me? Your—" I stopped myself.
He finished my sentence without hesitation, eyes locked on mine. "Your future wife?"
I blinked.
"The answer is no," he said firmly. "I can never be ashamed of you. Except…" He smirked, "…when you sing in public, drag me to dance, joke with strangers, and run around like a maniac."
"So you are ashamed!" I shot back dramatically.
"No, my baby girl." His voice dropped, his hand sliding into mine. In one pull, he had me standing on his bed while he stood on the floor, tugging me toward him.
I squealed, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders to balance myself. My head dropped onto his shoulder as he secured me with a hand on my back, spinning me around in circles. Laughter bubbled out of me until he finally collapsed with me onto the bed, his hand sliding under my head carefully as he hovered above me.
His face dipped lower, closer to mine, eyes dark with intent. My heart skipped. At the last second, I pressed my palms against his lips. "Sorry, sir. You don't deserve it today."
"Why not?" he asked, breath warm against my fingers.
"Because let me be a mannered person… not someone enjoying puppy love with a mother's son—while the mother doesn't even know about me."
"Firstly, Miss Raffy," he whispered, "if you want, we can tell her about us today. Secondly, this isn't puppy love. You haven't even experienced real puppy love yet."
I turned red, covering my cheeks with my hands.
"If you want to experience it so quickly…" he teased, "…marry me."
I shoved him off with a laugh. "You're in such a hurry!"
"Why shouldn't I be?" he grinned, but I ignored him and pulled open the wardrobe.
"What are you going to wear?" he asked, leaning against the wall.
"It's a tough question," I muttered. "Eight dresses… each one prettier than the last. What should I wear?"
"Anything," he said lazily.
"The blue one is pretty and—"
"That one," he interrupted, pointing instantly at one of the most elegant dresses from the night before—the delicate, breathtaking one I'd kept aside.
"This one?" I asked, laughing.
He nodded like an eager child being asked if he wanted ice cream.
"Then I'm not wearing it," I teased.
Before I could hide it, he snatched the dress, gripped my waist with one hand, and carried me into the bathroom. Setting me down, he smirked. "Wear it." The door clicked shut behind me.
"Excuse me? I need the whole room, not just the washroom!" I yelled, pushing him out.
"Oh, wai—"
I slammed the door in his face.
He sighed, defeated, and slumped onto the sofa, switching on the TV while waiting.
Two hours later, when I finally emerged, his patience was rewarded. I stepped out draped in the chosen dress, dupatta flowing over my shoulder, handbag resting gracefully at my side. My hair fell half in front, half behind me, framing my face.
Raffy stood up immediately, his gaze traveling slowly from head to toe. His breath caught. Step by step, he approached me, his eyes darkening with something between awe and hunger.
"My sweet waffle…" his voice was low, reverent, almost sinful, "…you don't even know what you're doing to me."
I flushed, biting back a laugh. "How am I looking?"
He tilted his head, studying every inch of me. "Like a sin I'd never regret. Like a dream every man wants but only I own. Like the kind of beauty that doesn't just turn heads—it ruins souls."
The room went quiet, his words hanging heavy, stealing my breath.
After a pause, he smiled softly. "You're mine."
I laughed nervously, trying to shake the mood.
We talked a while, then headed downstairs.
I was searching for his bike when he surprised me by opening the door of a sleek black car.
I froze. "Is… that yours?"
He smirked, sliding into the driver's seat.
"Why didn't you tell me? You made me suffer on that bike—ugh, yuck!" I complained, climbing in.
He only laughed.
His phone rang. It was his mother.
"Yes, Mom?" he answered.
"When are you coming?"
"Just on the way."
"Okay, carefully. I'm waiting!"
"Bye."
"Bye."
And with that, the ride to the unknown future began.