Marry Him At The Age Of Eighteen

ElijahAs Elijah sat quietly, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the side of his stomach. He looked over at Charlotte, who was staring blankly at his abdomen.

"What are you doing, and why are you moving around so much?" he asked.

Charlotte held up the money she was trying to count.

"I told you to focus on that later. Why are you so restless?"

"I have nothing else to do, so I started counting the money, and I've finished eating."

"Aren't you ashamed of what you're doing? You look like you're counting money."

Charlotte stopped what she was doing and turned to face him, wearing a serious expression on her face. "I'm starting this now because I have classes tomorrow," she explained.

"But you had time the other day," he pointed out.

"I have somewhere to go that day," Charlotte replied.

He raised an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

"Just to see a friend," Charlotte reassured him.

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes," Charlotte replied, ignoring his doubts and continuing to separate the money.

As time passed, both Elijah's and Charlotte's families were ready to leave. It was getting late, so they needed to go home.

They were now standing in front of the door, ready to leave.

"We're leaving now; be happy together," his mother said. She looked at Charlotte and continued, "And you, Charlotte, take care of your husband, look after him, and cook for him."

He looked at Charlotte's face and noticed that she slightly frowned. He sighed at her reaction, but his mother didn't seem to notice.

"Take care on the way home, Mom."

"Alright, then we'll leave you." She smiled at both of them before getting into the car. Charlotte's family waved at them before leaving.

They remained at the door, looking outside.

"What are we going to do?" Charlotte asked.

He walked back into the house. "Get dressed, and if you want, clean up all the mess inside. You can also wash the dishes."

"Huh? Isn't this supposed to be catering?"

"No."

He glanced back and noticed Charlotte staring at the table and the dishes there. He raised an eyebrow as she walked towards them.

“Go upstairs and get changed. There’s a maid who will clean up,” he said.

Charlotte appeared hesitant. “Should I? What if I change my mind and ask you to do the laundry on the tablecloth?”

Without a second thought, he immediately walked towards the stairs, passing by Charlotte.

Their house had three bedrooms on the second floor, one for him and the other two were empty.

He entered one of the rooms and Charlotte followed him.

“Is this my room?” she asked.

“No, this is our room,” he replied.

Her eyes widened as she looked around the room.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

"I'd rather sleep in the other room. Anyway, we don't like each other," she said.

He looked at her and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to stay here?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Okay, follow me," he said and led her to the other room.

"This room is for you. Do you like it?" he asked.

She peeked inside the room and noticed that it was empty. "Why is it empty?" she asked.

"No one uses it, so there's nothing in it, not even a cabinet," he explained.

"What about the other room?" she asked.

"Didn't you hear? Only one room is furnished, so the third room remains empty as well," he said, avoiding eye contact.

She rolled her eyes and walked inside the room, standing in the middle.

"Come on, let's go to our room, and you can change there," he said.

“I think I'll sleep here," she said.

He frowned. "Didn't you see? We entered here first. Use your eyes sometimes so you don't ask too many questions."

"Are questions not allowed now?"

"Yes, especially since you know the answers. Just follow me."

When they entered his room, he took off his barong and ended up wearing just a T-shirt. Charlotte looked around for her suitcase.

"Where's my suitcase?" she asked.

"Suitcase?"

"Yes, all my clothes are in there."

"No one brought a suitcase down here."

Her eyes widened before she left the room in a hurry. After a few minutes, she returned.

"My brother didn't bring my suitcase down from the car."

He looked at his cabinet. "If you want, you can use my clothes first."

"No, I'll just stay like this. I won't change anymore."

He shook his head. "No, you're sweating, and your clothes have absorbed the smoke. I don't want you to sleep on my bed wearing that."

"You're so picky."

"You're not the one who does the laundry, so don't be picky."

Annoyed, she slammed what she was holding on the small table beside the bed. "Where are the clothes you're talking about? Now!"

"Are you raising your voice at me?"

"It's obvious. Why are you still asking? If you don't want me to get dirty, then I'll sleep in the other room, even if it's just on the floor!"

"Can you? Go ahead; nothing's stopping you."

She clenched her fists before turning away from him and leaving the room. She closed the door loudly, causing him to squint.

He thought to himself that she was stubborn. He stepped out of the room to follow her to the other side, but she was nowhere to be found. He went downstairs and searched there.

"Cara, where's your madam?" he asked.

"Your wife?" Cara replied.

"Yes. Did you see her downstairs?"

"She's in the kitchen."

"Alright. Thanks."

He went to the kitchen and saw Charlotte rummaging through pots. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She dropped the lid of the pot she was holding, making a loud noise. "Charlotte!" he called out.

She took some rice and the leftover dish from earlier, sat down, and started eating.

"Can you hear me?"

She just continued eating without looking at him. Irritated, he left the kitchen and went back to his room, locking the door behind him. He thought to himself that Charlotte was headstrong as well, sticking to her decision. He wondered how long she could endure sleeping on the cold floor. He took a shower, then sat in front of the table to read some papers. He grabbed his eyeglasses before starting.