arindalee

Under the moon's tender gaze, our footsteps wove a through the housing lane. His secret hung in the air like a half-whispered promise, and I, ever the skeptic, couldn't help but unravel its mystery.

“You have a secret?” I probed, my curiosity a compass guiding me toward uncharted territory. His nod was cryptic, eyes holding galaxies of untold stories. I ventured further, my mind spinning improbable tales. “Chronic illness? Hidden identity? Another girl?” I guessed, each possibility more absurd than the last.

His laughter tinkled like wind chimes in a forgotten garden. “Wow,” I mused, “Do you have a secret baby? A clandestine affair from high school?” The words spilled out, absurd and yet strangely plausible.

“I will have a baby with you,” he declared, and suddenly the housing lane blurred. His gaze turned seductive, and I felt the tickle of secrets brushing against my skin.

I walked, half-dazed, as he continued his mad soliloquy. “When should we get married? Tomorrow? Let's do it! Marry me!” His voice echoed, and I wondered if sanity had abandoned us both.

“Are you crazy?” I covered his mouth, panic rising. But he held my hand, insistent. “We have to work together when times are difficult,” he declared, and I realized he wasn't just talking about marriage.

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed. “What if we meet my father?” My blows rained upon him, but he grinned, undeterred.

“Who cares?” he challenged, eyes alight. “I'll buy a house—ten years, five years, one year—wherever you want. Just say it.” And there it was—the audacity of his love, the recklessness of our shared madness.

“Where do you want to live?” he pressed, and I tugged him away.

And as we stepped into the night, I realized—I wasn't dragging a crazy guy. I was pulling my heart's compass toward a place where love defied reason.