[I don't really date for fun.
I date to marry.
If that's not you, let's not waste each other's time.]
That was the message I got from Rina—my junior in college.
Back then she was the quiet, sweet freshman who waved Hi and Hello to all her seniors, asked for notes and smiled shyly. I barely noticed her. But post-graduation, she messaged me with innocent questions: job-search tips, company recommendations, interviews.
What started as innocent questions slowly became the best part of my day.
I'd wake up checking if she messaged.
I'd go to sleep rereading our chats.
It was embarrassing how fast it became a habit.
When I first sent a more flirty message, she responded warmly. I wasn't sure if she was like this to only me or if she was like that with everyone. Still, she was… different. Sweet without being fake. Kind without trying too hard. It was the first time I met someone who had such a gentle soul.
So I asked her out. And that was her response.
I stared at my screen for a long time. I barely knew her, and yet… I didn't want to back away. After a year of being single, her warmth had wormed under my skin.
"Well, whatever," I muttered to myself. "as long as it's a date, right?"
I sighed and typed: [I get you. I want my next girlfriend to be my last, too.]
Looking back, that was the exact moment I got myself roped into this honey trap.
SIX YEARS LATER
"My husband, here's your suitcase. Pack at least a week's worth of clothes, okay?"Rina's voice was soft almost dripping with honey, dangerous for a man with two brain cells remaining and exhausted from work.
"A week's worth of clothes? Why not just throw everything into this big box?" I asked, pulling shirts from my cabinet.
We've been married for three months now. Five years dating, simple wedding, moved into my bachelor pad for a bit… and now on the midst of moving into our new two-bedroom house.
"That box is for kitchen stuff, husband." Rina showed me a color–coded packing document on her tablet. "We have a system."
Of course we did. It was her system - but sure WE works too now because we're married.
We were moving out because - according to Rina there wasn't enough light coming from the windows.
The place was too cramped.
We were starting a new chapter.
And a stray cat basically adopted us and wakes ME up demanding midnight snacks.
"Well, how about this box?" I asked, tempted to shove my entire wardrobe into it, which if we look at our entire closet is filled with most of her clothes anyway.
Cat - our apartment self-imposed-cat, jumped into the box before my clothes could. It stared at me like it paid the rent. "MEEOOW!"
"Cat says no," Rina said, dragging the box and cat inside sitting like a train conductor.
I mentally noted: Step one in marriage is to conquer the cat overlord.
I sighed and kept folding my clothes.
"Husband, no. Fold them neatly. Like this." Her tone had that tiny tch in it.
I peeked at the desk calendar.
The date: 21st
Ah.
Of course.
I was talking to my Tidy Tyrant wife.
There was no reasoning with this one. Bad planning on my part. I told myself not to fight the force of nature… or the woman with laser eyes folding the rest of the linens. Otherwise those laser eyes gets redirected at me.
I nodded. "Alright, wife. Here."
"No—no. Properly."She confiscated another shirt with the precision of a SWAT team securing evidence.
I stepped back, admiring. Storm in a ponytail. Also mildly terrifying.
"I'll… pack the gym equipment," I said, grabbing the box labeled GYM.
My whole body felt like lead, every brain cells had been dedicated to work today, then I came home to a battlefield of boxes and missing socks. Zero energy to deal with perfectionist mode but I have to soldier through.
"Okay! And message the movers to confirm the time and date again."
"But they already confirmed last week, I'll just message them tomorrow?" I said casually but that was the wrong thing to say. The look she gave me was the look CEOs give incompetent interns.
"What does the checklist say?" She tapped her tablet. "TODAY."
I straightened up with a salute. "Yes, ma'am."
That earned me a small honey coated giggle. But then My elbow hit a stack of boxes. They wobbled like Jenga on hard mode which earned me a scowl the next second.
I quickly set out to send that message trying to evade the daggered stares of Rina, tomorrow was moving day and a reminder was needed according to OUR PLAN.
MOVING DAY
By morning, the last essential things were stuffed neatly into a final luggage. The movers came exactly on time after being reminded the day before and we proceeded to move boxes into the moving van. Rina carried the lighter ones. The movers and I hauled the heavy things. Then once everything was loaded we drove to the new house. The first thing she did was whip out all the rolling luggage and march straight to the bedroom.
"Husband, make sure they put the boxes in the correct rooms. "She handed me a color-coded map of the house.
Every box had a sticker and a designated place in the house.
RED – Bedroom 2
ORANGE – Bedroom 1
YELLOW – Living Room
GREEN – Dining
BLUE – Bathroom
VIOLET – Kitchen
I sighed internally. I wanted to dump everything in the living room and deal with the chaos later. I didn't want to deal with instructing the movers on my precious day-off. But knowing my Tidy Tyrant wife is in charge of the move I'd rather spend energy following her instructions than to try and survive an argument.
"Alright guys huddle up here's what we're doing." I said to the group of movers as she rolled, four more luggage inside. One mover was already sweating just looking at my map.
Half an hour later of lifting and directing boxes, a motorcycle pulled in."Mr. Cerulo?"
"Yes?"
"Sir, here's your delivery." The delivery man handed me two boxes of pizza, ice-cold sodas, and garlic bread still steaming. It felt like this was food God-sent, it even glowed and for a second, I swear a choir sang behind the delivery rider.
After lifting boxes, sweat dripping down my back, and my calves screaming - pizza felt like divine intervention.
"Bless you," I muttered (maybe too sincerely).
The movers perked up instantly, like zombies smelling fresh meat.I waved at the pile. "Eat, eat. Take some home. Please."
Hot slices disappeared. Cold drinks hissed open. My soul briefly left my body from relief.
When everything wound down, I paid the movers, thanked them, and watched them drive away—there pizza box tucked next to moving van's front seat like a prize.
Then a thought hit me.
"Wait… I didn't order pizza."
I checked my phone. No orders. No messages. So the only other person behind it was —
I walked inside, peeling my damp shirt off my back. My arms dangled like wet noodles. Every joint felt unhinged.
But the moment I stepped into the bedroom—
Everything stopped.
There she was.
Knocked out cold.Wrapped like a burrito in a fuzzy blanket.AC set to 'Arctic Expedition.'
Anyone would've been annoyed—any sane person —after hauling boxes under the sun while the other person napped in AC heaven. But I wasn't just anyone , I was the husband and this wasn't any other person this was my wife.
The minute I saw her drooling and snoring peacefully like a newborn St. Bernard, the irritation just… dissolved.
A tired laugh escaped me—more like a wheeze, honestly.I didn't even have the strength to properly laugh. Just… exhale in disbelief and accept my fate.
My wife somehow ordered pizza, fallen asleep, and forgotten the world of moving boxes outside existed.
Even the cat was snoozing peacefully beneath her feet, her little belly protruding with a clear sign that she'd be expecting soon. The cat bobbed her head up, eyes alert, as if sizing me up for any potential threats. After a suspicious glance, she carefully stepped off the mattress, weaving through my legs and out the door, no doubt heading off to explore the rest of the house—or perhaps to inspect a few boxes for nesting.
"Guess that means we're expecting kittens soon." I sighed.
I entered the room closing the bedroom door, and the room felt cool and cozy, like it had already decided to welcome us home. Everything was neatly unpacked, no box left unsorted. My wife already conquered the bedroom first. A soft rug lay beneath the newly bought mattress, which was dressed with crisp sheets pulled so tight they could've passed a military inspection. Pillows were fluffed to maximum volume, and a full week's worth of toiletries stood in the master bathroom like obedient little soldiers waiting for orders.
While I was outside lifting weights under the sun, she was inside waging her own war trying to conquer the bedroom… and then promptly passing out mid-victory, blanket burrito and all.
I checked my phone calendar for the date 22nd.
Of course. She arrived early today.
I gently tapped her arm. "My Wife?"
She blinked, slow and unfocused. Those sleepy eyes are the eyes of my Cuddle Sloth wife.
"Husband? Is it cuddle time?" she mumbled.
"Don't you want to unpack or eat first?" I asked because it was in the master plan schedule after all.
"No… I want cuddles." she said trying to invite me into the blanket burrito.
"I'll shower first."
"Okay… ah—here." She rolled over, still half-asleep, and from the blankets emerged:
my towel and fresh set of clothes
All neatly arranged.
Then she snored right back to sleep.
My exhaustion hit me like a wall. I wasn't ready to face the chaos outside either. Boxes everywhere. Zero energy left. But this room—our room—felt soft. Safe. Ours.
I glanced at my ring, then hers. Warmth spread through my chest.
I poked her cheek lightly and murmured, "This feels like we're really married… my little sloth."