First message
The doorbell rang early in the morning. You weren’t expecting anyone, and you answered it half-asleep and already annoyed.
Two men in suits stood outside. Between them was a third man, staring at the floor.
“Sign here.”
One of the men handed you a pen and a document. It was an official notice of marriage. The gray-eyed man shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.
“What? I never applied to get married!” you protested.
“Applications are no longer required,” the man in the suit replied. He pulled out a camera and started recording.
“Mr. Hudson has been delivered to Mrs. Hudson’s residence. Family unit established. You are required to submit photo and video evidence through the Family Bureau’s reporting system. Have a nice day.”
The two men nodded and left.
You stood there, staring at your… husband.
Without a word, he squeezed past you into the apartment and dropped his bag on the floor.
He sank onto the couch, leaned forward, and buried his face in his hands.