Falling In Love With My Mortal Enemy

I married my arch-enemy. And I was deceived. Yes, you heard that right—deceived!

I never imagined that our parents would go to such lengths to force me and Elvis into marriage.

My father faked a brain hemorrhage, claiming his dying wish was to see me married to Elvis.

Meanwhile, Elvis' mother resorted to crying, threatening to hang herself, and even fasting for three whole days.

Just when Elvis and I thought that not getting married would literally kill our parents, we reluctantly got our marriage certificate.

But when we returned home, the scene that greeted us was utterly absurd.

The father who had been on his deathbed just a day before was now drinking Maotai with Elvis' father.

And Elvis' mother, who had supposedly been on a hunger strike, was hugging my mom, laughing joyously like lifelong friends.

This scene made Elvis and I look like the biggest fools ever.

***

"You tricked us!!!"

Elvis and I shouted in unison, our anger palpable.

But the four of them showed no remorse. Instead, they beamed at the red marriage certificates in our hands, their smiles bright and carefree.

"Maggie, Auntie is so happy! You're finally my daughter-in-law."

Elvis' mother exclaimed, rushing over to hug me with surprising energy for someone who hadn't eaten for three days.

"Maggie, call me Mom," she coaxed, holding out a shiny black card. "This card will be yours if you do."

Looking at the shiny black card, unwilling but unable to resist the allure of the card, I hesitantly muttered, "Mom."

Elvis' mother nearly burst with joy, while Elvis, standing next to me, sneered sarcastically.

"Maggie, can you be any more spineless?"

I curled my lips and ignored Elvis.

After all, we were already married. What was the point of resisting anymore?

And Elvis, despite his show of self-respect, had eagerly accepted the car keys my parents had given him.

"Maggie," my mom spoke up after Elvis accepted the keys and changed his address to 'Mom and Dad.' She glanced at Elvis, then at me, with an apologetic expression.

That was probably the only apology I had seen all day.

I was so touched that I almost hugged her, but then she added, "We've already booked our tickets for an overseas trip."

"What?"

Elvis and I exchanged glances, both of us suddenly excited.

"We're not going on a honeymoon."

Getting married was nauseating enough for the two of us.

"Who said anything about your honeymoon?"

My mom looked at us with a gaze that said, "Don't get ahead of yourselves."

"Then what's with the tickets?"

I had a sinking feeling in my gut.

Sure enough, the next second, Elvis' mom chimed in cheerfully, "They're for the four of us. Are you surprised?"

Elvis and I exchanged a glance and couldn't help but roll our eyes in unison.

So, we got married, and they got to go on a honeymoon.

But actually, that's not such a bad thing.

With them gone, Elvis and I would have our freedom.

"Don't think you can be free."

My mom gave us both a stern look and pointed upstairs to the bedroom that now belonged to the two of us.

"We've installed surveillance cameras at the door. You two must come home together every night. We'll be watching you every moment."

Elvis' mom nodded vigorously beside her, adding, "And it would be best if there's a baby when we get back."

A baby?

Just the thought of being with Elvis in that way sent a shiver down my spine.

Unlike the close-knit bond between our parents, Elvis and I had been at each other's throats since we were kids.

In fact, you could say we were enemies.

But why our relationship became so hostile, I can't quite remember.

I only remember that in elementary school, Elvis stuck gum in my hair, forcing me to chop it off and turn me into a tomboy.

In middle school, he punctured my bike tires—every single time. I'd fix them, and he'd puncture them again, making me take the bus for an entire semester.

In high school, he was even worse. He posted a love letter I wrote to a senior on the school bulletin board, got me in trouble with my parents, and made me the laughingstock of the entire school.

As for college...

To get away from that devil, I deliberately chose a university far from him.

But who would've thought that this persistent guy would start dating a girl at my school?

He showed up at my university on every holiday and even spread rumors that I had 20 different boyfriends—some who sank into despair, some who committed suicide, and some who were swindled out of money...

In short, he got me labeled as a complete scumbag for four years.

And now, this man, who I hate with every fiber of my being, is my husband.