Indigo
“I can’t marry you! You don’t know anything about me, and I don’t know s**t about you. You don’t even know how old I am,” I argued.
“You’re old enough.”
“Old enough? What does that even mean?”
“It means you’ve become a woman; I can smell that you just ended your monthly bleed a day ago. That makes you old enough to bear children and be a wife.”
“This is crazy, and I don’t care what you say; I’m not marrying some stuck up old turd who thinks I’m some kind of trophy. So, thank you for the lovely proposal, but I’m going to have to decline.” I lifted myself from my chair to walk away, but Wesley had taken my wrist before I was fully standing and dug one razor-sharp nail into my flesh, drawing blood.
“I don’t appreciate being disrespected or called out of my
