My future MIL gave me a list of 10 rules to become the “perfect” wife for her son. I smiled, nodded… and decided to follow every one of them. Just not the way she expected.
I’d always been an ordinary woman with ordinary needs.
Nothing extravagant. I wanted to work, have a few hobbies, maybe travel a bit, and one day build a family.
I didn’t equate life with grand happiness — I simply lived it and appreciated what I had.
Until I met Dylan.
My friends used to talk about him like he’d stepped straight out of a luxury shower gel commercial.
“He supports everyone, no matter what!”
“And he never forgets to open the door for a lady. Never!”
I used to smile politely, not quite believing men like that existed outside romcoms.
But the first time Dylan took my hand in his — I got it.
Dylan made my life feel cinematic. Almost too good to be true.
I found myself blooming next to him, dreaming bigger, smiling more. I even started cooking with joy.
We moved in together pretty quickly, and strangely, domestic life didn’t ruin the magic.
If anything, it strengthened it. The toothbrush next to mine and the grocery runs were small rituals that made me fall harder.
Everything felt… easy. The perfection of it didn’t scare me.
It reminded me how simple love could be when two people were honest.
That evening, we were having dinner at our favorite trattoria. But Dylan seemed… different. Fidgety.
“You okay?” I asked, smiling softly when we finally went outside.
He nodded and suddenly… he knelt. In the middle of the street.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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