I stood very still, my stare darting from the drawing of Kai to my husband's face. "I asked you not to look at that," I finally managed to say. My voice sounded weak and pathetic.

A bitter smile pulled at Brandon's lips. "Yes, well, I can see why." Gently, he closed the sketchbook and set it aside. "I wasn't trying to pry, but you'd left it open on the table."

Thinking back to earlier that afternoon, I realized he was right. I'd been working on a simple sketch, little more than a doodle, when Brandon arrived home. I must have forgotten to put the sketchbook away.

"I was admiring your work in progress," he went on, "the oak tree you sketched, and I couldn't help but take a look at your other drawings." As he stared down at his now-empty hands, I saw his jaw tighten. "You're very talented, although I must say, your work could use a little variety. Almost all of your other drawings are of the same man." He looked up, giving me a measured stare. "Now tell me who he is."

I squirmed beneath his scrutiny. "You know who he is."

Brandon stood but didn't approach me. "No. I want to hear you say it, Alissa."

Folding my arms over my chest, I grew more defensive by the second. "He's my former boyfriend. I've mentioned him to you before."

"The one you're still in love with."

I opened my mouth to reply but found I didn't even know how to begin. Did I still love Kai? My feelings for Brandon had grown so strong, so quickly, that I now discovered my longing for Kai had diminished.

I wanted to explain that to Brandon, but he held up a hand to stop me. Suddenly, he looked exhausted. "Sometimes," he said, "I wish you and I had never met."

I pressed a hand to my face as if I'd been slapped. Hot tears burned my eyes. "Why would you say that to me?"

"Because I've loved you from the very beginning, but I realize you'll never feel the same about me." His stare grew colder as he spoke.

"That's not true!" I cried. "We've only been together a month, and..."

"And during that entire time, you've clearly been obsessing over your ex-boyfriend." Brandon cast a contemptuous glance at my sketchbook. 

I took a tentative step toward him. "But things have changed. I've changed." My gaze grew pleading. "Think about what we did tonight, Brandon. Do you honestly believe I could have done that with someone I didn't care about?"

He was silent a long moment, considering my words. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Let's go to bed." His tone was quiet, almost resigned. "We can talk about this later."

"I think we should—"

"I'm tired," he said, far more firmly this time, "and I'm going to bed."

I swore I could feel the chill from him as he strode past me. 

A little later, we lay in the darkness of our bedroom, the silence heavy between us. I realized this was far worse than when we were living like roommates. At least then, Brandon had made an effort to reach me.

He lay with his back to me, and I resisted the urge to touch him. As unshed tears formed like a thick clot in my throat, I experienced the same grief that had overwhelmed me when I said goodbye to Kai.

Closing my eyes, I remembered the first words Brandon had spoken to me: I've been waiting for you for so long. How bitterly disappointed he must be that it wasn't love at first sight for us both.

Somehow, I finally managed to fall asleep. When I woke the next morning, I quickly left the bed in search of Brandon. He must have gotten up even earlier than usual, for he'd already showered and was about to leave for work. 

I couldn't stop myself from rushing to him. Placing a hand on his arm, I blurted out, "I'm sorry, Brandon. I did miss Kai, terribly at first, and drawing was my way of dealing with that heartbreak. But I'll get rid of the sketchbook. It means nothing to me."

He shook his head. "I won't ask you to do that." Avoiding my eyes, he continued in a gentler tone. "I overreacted about the drawings, but I think you and I need to have an honest talk about all of this tonight."

I readily nodded, feeling a rush of relief when he pulled me into a quick embrace and kissed the top of my head.

Then he was gone. 

I spent my day at work in a daze; it was a struggle to focus on teaching when I could think only of what I might say to Brandon in order to make things right. I understood his hurt and frustration, and even his anger. He'd been so patient, and he'd tried so hard to nurture our relationship. Until very recently, I'd made no effort at all. And just when I started to reciprocate his feelings, he found a sketchbook filled with countless drawings of my former boyfriend.

If I hadn't been so preoccupied that day, I might have paid closer attention to my coworkers. I vaguely noticed the hum of anxious energy passing between them like a current. They spoke in whispers, their eyes wide. I hadn't known them long enough to be taken into their confidence, so I chalked it all up to some kind of workplace drama. Putting it out of my mind, I tried to concentrate on doing my job.

It was only after I got home that I learned the reason for the charged atmosphere among my colleagues. I let myself into a quiet apartment, as Brandon wouldn't be home for at least another hour. I was setting out ingredients to make dinner when an urgent knock sounded at the door. A slight frown pulled at my lips as I hurried to answer it.

Whitney stood before me, her eyes swollen from crying. Immediately, I reached for her hand and drew her inside. "Whitney, what's wrong?" 

She gave me an incredulous stare. "Haven't you heard? It's been all over the news."

"What has?" Even as I asked, a sense of almost palpable dread settled over me.

Whitney guided me to the couch, as if this were her apartment and I was a guest she'd invited. After we sat down, she again grasped my hand. My alarm ratcheted up another few levels when I saw her blink back fresh tears.

"The government's matchmaking project," she began in a quavering voice, "is complete bullshit."

I stared at her in bewilderment, trying to make sense of what she'd said. "What are you talking about?" I finally demanded.

"It turns out all those studies and experiments they relied on to pair everyone up with their perfect match? It's nothing but junk science!" Her cheeks reddened with barely contained fury. "We've all been manipulated into thinking we've met our ideal mate, but there's no real evidence to support that. Even the news isn't toeing the line of censorship anymore; if you turn on the television, you'll hear them announcing that we're all victims of a lie."

While I struggled to form a response, my words were like ribbons twisting around my tongue. I could barely get them past my lips. "Wait—you're saying all that talk of compatible microbiomes... it's garbage?"

Whitney nodded vigorously. "Banks called me a little earlier, after he'd spoken with his father. Since they both work for the government, they have inside knowledge about what's going on. Banks told me protests are erupting everywhere; people are demanding more transparency and accountability from government officials." Her voice broke, and she had to clear her throat before continuing. "He also told me... there's a line half a mile long outside the courthouse. Couples are showing up there in droves to get divorced."

I cupped a hand over my mouth, trying to hide my own distress. "Oh, my God."

"Apparently, a lot of us who've been matched up have only been pretending to be happy with our new spouses." Her face crumpled from another onslaught of tears. "What if Banks was only pretending because he felt he had no other choice? What if he doesn't really love me?"

Drawing Whitney into an embrace, I strove to comfort her. "There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that Banks loves you. Anyone can see that." I smoothed her hair back from her damp face and smiled. "I promise this won't change anything between you two."

Whitney looked like she desperately wanted to believe my words. Hugging me tight, she whispered, "I know the same is true for you and Brandon."

I managed to keep my smile in place, but inside, my heart was furiously pounding. Somehow, I hid my growing panic while walking Whitney to the door. "Everything's going to be fine," I told her in a surprisingly steady voice. 

After she was gone, I felt weak-kneed and lightheaded. Stumbling toward the couch, I collapsed upon it with a thud. Though I tried to process the news Whitney had shared, I couldn't hold on to my train of thought. My mind was all over the place. One question surfaced above all my worry and fear: now that Brandon could be free of me, would he give up on our relationship altogether?

Looking down at my hands, I noticed they were shaking violently. I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, and when I felt like I could safely stand, I considered turning on the television and listening to the news. 

Before I had a chance to do so, the apartment door opened. Brandon stepped inside the living room, his stare meeting mine. I could see the question in his eyes, the same as Whitney's: Have you heard? 

Wordlessly, I nodded. His face fell, along with his shoulders; my husband appeared utterly crestfallen. Yet he didn't hesitate to close the distance between us and take me in his arms. I held onto him with a fierce grip, as if he were the only person in this world who could save me.

Still clinging to each other, we sank down on the couch. "It's chaos out there right now," he revealed in a breathless voice. "People are furious, or they're crying. Some are even celebrating, because they're convinced this will lead to more freedom for the country's citizens." Brandon's gaze softened. "It all makes sense now, Alissa: all the problems you and I have had, it's because we were thrown together based on a lie."

I'd begun shaking so hard that even my lips trembled. "Do you think," I said in a voice just above a whisper, "that you imagined your feelings for me? Was it some kind of... placebo effect?" I didn't know if that was the right term, but I wasn't sure what else to call it. "Maybe you believed in the science so much that you were convinced I was your perfect match."

His eyes swam with tears, but he managed to blink them away. "I wasn't imagining how I felt, and now that I know the truth, I still feel the exact same way." As he stroked my hair, I leaned into his touch. "But I also know you have feelings for someone else, someone you were forced to leave behind. Now, you can return to him. You can be happy."

Discerning the pain in his words, I had to fight back my own tears. My thoughts drifted to Kai, whom I'd once loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Only a month ago, I thought he and I were perfect for each other.

But no longer.

Grasping Brandon's hand, I brought it to my lips. "I'm happy here with you," I said. "I can't imagine going back to my old life now, not after all you and I have shared. I love you, Brandon, and I want to be your wife."

For a moment, he looked too stunned to respond. But then he cupped my face in his hands and gave me a kiss full of such passion that it stole my breath. I eagerly kissed him back, my body responding to his obvious desire. 

"What an amazing coincidence that I happened to be matched with the love of my life," he whispered. "How did I get so lucky?"

"You're not the only one," I whispered back. 

Our kisses grew even more fervent, and our hands were insistent in seeking out the intimate places beneath our clothes. Brandon had my blouse unbuttoned in no time. Gently, he lifted my breasts from my bra and lavished attention on each one. My moans increased in volume until I found myself saying, "I need you inside me!"

Brandon let my nipple escape his lips before moving to gather me in his arms. When he started to carry me toward our bedroom, I quickly shook my head. "I want you right here."

Though he raised his eyebrows in surprise at my demand, he wasn't about to argue. As I slipped out of my blouse and took off my bra, Brandon stroked himself through his pants. Grinning, I finished undressing at a teasingly slow pace. His stare was full of heat while traveling over my bare skin. Again, he reached for me, but I stepped back.

"Not yet," I said. Then, I sank to my knees before him. 

I heard his breathing quicken as I took out his cock. Unable to control myself, I licked and nuzzled him, inhaling his scent. His hand was gentle on my head, but I could sense his abject longing. When I planted kisses along his entire length, he let out a faint moan. In my grasp, and beneath my lips, his cock hardened even more.

I'd never done this before, and it was a challenge to overcome my nervousness. I wanted nothing more than to please Brandon, and to let him know how much I craved this closeness with him. He seemed to understand, for as I took him in my mouth and enthusiastically sucked his tip, he showered praise upon me.

"Oh, baby, that's good! Yes, yes, keep doing that with your tongue!"

I appreciated his murmured instructions, which made it clear exactly what drove him wild. He loved me probing his slit, and swirling my tongue all around his cockhead. His dick actually pulsed when I licked him from base to tip, then suckled at his frenulum. And I wasn't shy about taking each of his balls in my mouth.

Gazing up at him, I strove to look both submissive and slutty. His fingers wove through my hair, tightening their hold ever so slightly. "You are so fucking sexy," he told me in a voice thick with arousal.

His words made me grow braver, and I was soon testing the limits of my gag reflex while sliding my lips down his shaft. When his cock filled my entire throat, I fought back a twinge of panic at not being able to breathe. It took effort, but I managed to relax even while saliva leaked from my mouth. 

"Alissa!" he groaned. "My God!"

Finally, I pulled back and drew in a lungful of air. Brandon's cock was coated with my spit; fascinated, I watched it pulse in time with his heartbeat. My own pussy throbbed when I realized how excited I'd made my husband.

It was then that a familiar sound carried to us from the apartment next door. Whitney's cries were even louder than usual as she and Banks fucked. Unlike all the other times I'd overheard them, I was now thrilled for my neighbors. They were clearly lucky, too, in being perfectly matched.

Locking eyes with Brandon, I said, "Sounds like Banks is giving it to her hard."

Brandon raised an eyebrow and grinned. "It sure does."

"And that," I said while stroking his cock, "is how I want you to fuck me. Right now."

With a swiftness that made me gasp, Brandon pulled me to my feet. His mouth was hungry in claiming mine, and I offered no resistance when he bent me over the arm of the couch. I didn't need to be told to plant my feet far apart. 

Instead of immediately entering me, Brandon slid his palms over my back, his touch a continual caress. Only when he reached my ass did he give my flesh a squeeze. "I need to get a condom," he said quietly.

"Not this time." I knew the risk, but my desire to feel him inside me, with no barrier between us, overrode all caution. 

His skilled fingers explored my inner folds. "What a naughty girl you are! Sucking my cock got you soaking wet."

"I loved doing it," I confessed. My hair framed my face as I lowered my head and waited.

Finally, I felt his cock at my entrance. "And do you love this?"

"So much!" 

Brandon rewarded me by sliding deep inside my cunt. Next door, the wild fucking continued unabated, and all that noise emboldened me to get plenty loud as well. "Fuck me!" I cried out. "I want you to pound my pussy!"

I heard Brandon's sharp intake of breath; clearly, I'd surprised him with my dirty talk. In a deep, seductive voice, he said, "You're a dream come true."

Then he grabbed my hips and began taking me at a relentless pace.

We'd never fucked like this before, and at first, I worried it would be painful. But my body proved to be ready; instead of pain, a fierce pleasure overwhelmed me. The force of Brandon's thrusts drove me against against the couch. With my hands splayed out on the cushion before me, I sought some kind of steadying grip, yet it was my husband who held me fast.

My screams grew primal and uninhibited, easily matching Whitney's. As Brandon's groans and guttural cries added to the erotic soundtrack, I felt my orgasm nearing. It was like a tide surging forth, flooding my entire body, while the subsequent aftershocks served as gentler waves, lapping just below the surface of my skin. I could only moan through the deluge and gradual ebbing of that bliss.

Brandon slowed but didn't stop. "Enough?" he asked between heavy breaths.

Feverishly hot and panting, I managed to beg for more.

And he gave it to me, his stamina seemingly endless. Only when his fingertips dug into my flesh did I sense that he was fighting to last. By my third orgasm, I was reduced to a sweaty mess, limp and helpless in his hands. Although Whitney and Banks had fallen silent, I continued issuing low screams.

"Come for me, Alissa!" Brandon urged through clenched teeth.

My body somehow mustered up a final orgasm, as if desperate to obey. The powerful tremors of that climax stole the cry from my lips. On edge and eager for his own release, Brandon pulled out. Seconds later, I felt his hot cum strike my lower back and then my ass, each spurt punctuated by a groan from deep in his throat.

Gently, he gathered me in his arms, drawing me upright. Mindless of the semen on my skin, my husband held me tight, his lips lowered to my hair. Leaning back against him, I closed my eyes and smiled.

While the city around us was in an uproar, already enduring the spasms of great change, the world Brandon and I had created together, and which we'd shared with Whitney and Banks, now served as our shelter. Free to decide, we'd chosen to honor our vows: we would be steadfast, patient, and committed.

And we would love.