Maksimillian

“I don’t want to marry you, Maks,” Zenovia added, giving me a look of pleading. Pleading me to understand her.

I tapped my fingers on my thigh, trying to think how I’d convince her to let me stay with her and for us to live together. I certainly did not want to let go of her, with our children, to boot!

The car stopped, and I was grateful for the intermission to help me make think. I ushered her back to her house that was now with a door.

“You kicked it earlier, didn’t you?” she asked.

“I had no choice,” was my reply. “I’m sorry. I will take...