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Lazarenko

Sometimes, Aeka still thought back to those days when they were just students: crammed into a shabby little dorm, trying to survive on instant noodles (because Aeka, obviously, wouldn't have been able to cook even if her life depended on it), and just... living.

Those were days full of colour, of dreams, of lazy mornings and late-night laughter. Of fights, too: heat and jealousy and stupid arguments about things that didn't matter until they did.

It was messy. Complicated. Strangely beautiful. Hard, yet somehow easy at the same time.

And back then, if someone had told her she'd one day be Marvin's wife, she probably would've choked on her third-rate dorm-room coffee.

Because Marvin, the same Marvin who had never ever talked about marriage, who once declared he'd never tie the knot, or at the very least, not before he was 35, was not what you'd call the family-type man.

Maybe it was her curls that won him over.

Or maybe... it was the curly, cheap ramen noodles. Who knows?

But now, here they were. Husband and wife. Two years already.

And Aeka fucking loved how good it sounded:

Mrs. Lazarenko.

Aeka Lazarenko.

Like something that didn't just happen. Like something that was meant to be.