My First Love Became My Husband

The clean-cut young man wore a white shirt and smiled with such polite refinement. Even when he smiled, the corners of his mouth only lifted slightly. "No need to rush. Take your time. We have plenty of time," he said, handing me breakfast.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting too long." Maybe it was the shift in my mindset, but when I spoke to him, I found myself acting awkwardly coy, like a young girl.

He opened the map on his phone and handed it to me. "Then enter the address. You should eat breakfast on the way so you won't get hungry."

I took the phone and accidentally brushed his skin. My fingers curled back nervously. The black phone in my palm still held his warmth, and it made my cheeks flush slightly. I just wanted to enter the destination quickly and hand the phone back to him. "Make sure you get there before seven thirty, or I won't have enough time." As I spoke, I handed him the phone and edged toward the car door without making it obvious. I was afraid that if I sat too close, he would hear my nervous heartbeat.