My mom looked at us with a gaze that said, "Don't get ahead of yourselves."
"Then what's with the tickets?"
I had a sinking feeling in my gut.
Sure enough, the next second, Elvis' mom chimed in cheerfully, "They're for the four of us. Are you surprised?"
Elvis and I exchanged a glance and couldn't help but roll our eyes in unison.
So, we got married, and they got to go on a honeymoon.
But actually, that's not such a bad thing.
With them gone, Elvis and I would have our freedom.
"Don't think you can be free."
My mom gave us both a stern look and pointed upstairs to the bedroom that now belonged to the two of us.
"We've installed surveillance cameras at the door. You two must come home together every night. We'll be watching you every moment."
Elvis' mom nodded vigorously beside her, adding, "And it would be best if there's a baby when we get back."
A baby?
Just the thought of being with Elvis in that way sent a shiver down my spine.
Unlike the close-knit bond between our parents, Elvis and I had been at each other's throats since we were kids.
In fact, you could say we were enemies.
But why our relationship became so hostile, I can't quite remember.
I only remember that in elementary school, Elvis stuck gum in my hair, forcing me to chop it off and turn me into a tomboy.
In middle school, he punctured my bike tires—every single time. I'd fix them, and he'd puncture them again, making me take the bus for an entire semester.
In high school, he was even worse. He posted a love letter I wrote to a senior on the school bulletin board, got me in trouble with my parents, and made me the laughingstock of the entire school.
As for college...
To get away from that devil, I deliberately chose a university far from him.
But who would've thought that this persistent guy would start dating a girl at my school?
He showed up at my university on every holiday and even spread rumors that I had 20 different boyfriends—some who sank into despair, some who committed suicide, and some who were swindled out of money...
In short, he got me labeled as a complete scumbag for four years.
And now, this man, who I hate with every fiber of my being, is my husband.
"You're sleeping on the couch."
Before being ushered into the bedroom under the fierce gazes of the four elders, I told Elvis.
He agreed without hesitation, "Fine!"
He didn't even say, "Why don't you sleep on the couch?"
I was a bit surprised.