Patricia

Under the January sky, the terrace's stunning view of Milan is evident. The expansive cityscape is dotted with the colourful vitality and antique buildings that characterise this Italian city.

As I settle down on one of the wooden chairs on the terrace, flashbacks from yesterday resurface. I look at the glittering ring Jordan slipped onto my finger the day before at the altar, and I'm grateful for how my life is playing out. I've never been this happy and fulfilled.

I pray nothing comes between our unions. I love Jordan so much, and I don't know if I can live without having him right beside me. During our dinner yesterday, he mentioned he wasn't in any haste to have children, and he's ready whenever I am, which is quite thoughtful.

I feel Jordan’s hand snake around my neck from behind.

“My love,” he coos.

“My husband.”

“Why did you leave me all alone in bed?”

“You were sleeping soundly.”

“Which is strange because you know I'm an early riser.”

“Well, blame it on my charms.”

“I see. You