My fiancé and I met when we were 15, kissed, and thought that would be the end of it. We would never come across each other again. Turns out that we met again when we were both 18, and stayed together from that day onwards.
For the next seven years we were soulmates. We became so engrossed in each other’s lives that her nieces and nephews were mine as well. So much so that we were chosen to be one of her nephew’s god parents (despite being not even remotely religious).
I loved her family as well. Except one of her sisters. She was a pain in the ass. There was a time that we lived with her, and she was THE WORST. As in, the kind of housemate that you would just want to kick the ass of. Never did her own dishes, never cleaned when it was her turn, and never even tidied the goddamn bathroom. The worst.
After all that, we moved into our own place and looked forward to the future. That is, until we found out we were living with a brain tumour.
In the end, it was over pretty quickly. I never, ever, thought I would bury the love of my life. But that is exactly what I ended up doing.