Life as a dictum is not a bed of roses, and the genres of our love story as planned destinies are quite different from one another. Some love stories are dry at the beginning but end well while others are replicas of Genevieve and Ramsey Noah’s Cindarella stories; but what we all failed to realise is that our love stories can never be the same. Parental blessings play a vital role in our quest of marriage, but that does not give our parents the right to choose our life partners for us.
This is a short story of how my mother made our marriage; she failed to realise it is mine, my future, and not hers.
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Comments (1)
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