Ruby
Atwood’s words stick with me for the next few days.
“I’m going to marry you first,” he had said.
Before, when I had first been whisked away to the castle, the thought of marrying Atwood practically made me sick. Now, it only makes me excited.
I don’t see Atwood much over the week, partly because I’m too busy with my midterm exams but also partly because he’s busy working to protect the hybrid villages and preparing a memorial for my village. I appreciate that he’s communicating with me on the matter; feeling connected to his work also makes me feel connected to him.
It’s Friday now, and I’ve just completed my last midterm exam. Just one more semester and I will be finished with school entirely. I wonder if Atwood plans on marrying me once I’ve graduated.
Once I
