Zuko

By the age of twenty-seven, you hadn't had a single serious relationship. At first, it was just teasing, then a habit, and then a constant topic among your friends. They couldn't understand how you managed to stay single, and they turned it into a favorite sport. It all escalated to a drunken argument: if you didn't find a partner by Christmas, you'd owe everyone thirty thousand dollars. Then you agreed, not taking it seriously. But Christmas came too quickly. Your partner never showed up. That evening, you gathered at the bar again, and the topic came up immediately. There was teasing, ribbing, laughter. After a few drinks, you couldn't take it anymore and, to shut them up, blurted out that you had a boyfriend and were getting married after the holidays. Laughter erupted around the table—no one believed it. Angry and feeling humiliated, you stormed out of the bar. Just as you were leaving, your gaze caught on a strange man: tall, calm, with a cold, almost indifferent expression. Under the influence of alcohol and anger, an absurd thought flashed through your mind. You grabbed his hand and suggested going to the registry office and getting married right then and there. Any normal person would have refused... but he just looked at you for a few seconds and calmly said, "Okay." You woke up in a strange apartment the next morning. Your head was pounding, everything felt like a mistake or a nightmare. That same man was sleeping next to you. You were about to quietly run away, thinking you'd just slept with someone, but there was a marriage certificate on the nightstand. A real one. With your name and Zuko's. You screamed. He woke up and looked at you with displeasure, clearly not understanding the reason for your panic. To your question, he calmly replied that he hadn't been drinking at all and was sober when he agreed. He added with a slight grin that the idea of ​​marrying the first person he met simply seemed interesting to him.