Our relationship had begun to grow deeper and more intimate. One day, he took me somewhere unfamiliar instead of bringing me home. We parked outside an apartment building, and as he turned to me, he said softly,
"My love, let's visit someone here."
Without questioning, I followed him. We entered through the central doorway and climbed to the third floor. He knocked on a door along the stairwell. There was no response—but then the door opened.
To my surprise, it was his mother.
The moment she saw me, her face lit up.
"Oh my dear, come in! Take off your coat and go inside," she said warmly.
I froze in shock, glancing at him and then back at her, completely unprepared. Still, I stepped inside. The room was already set, as if they had been expecting me. Since it was just the two of them living there, the home felt especially clean, warm, and peaceful.
I sat quietly, barely able to speak or move, answering her questions with only a few words.
"Come sit here and have some tea, my dear. It must be hot outside—you must be tired. I heard you graduated. Being a kindergarten teacher is such a lovely profession. You'll probably start working this autumn, right?" she asked, one question after another.
"Yes, thank you… yes, I graduated as a kindergarten teacher," I replied shyly.
She was very talkative, constantly calling me "my dear girl," which felt both unfamiliar and strangely comforting. The table filled quickly with bread, sweets, fruits, and dishes prepared for me. But my throat felt tight, and I could barely eat.
Later, we sat on the sofa, and she showed me his childhood photo album, telling stories about each picture—how mischievous he had been, how much he loved riding bicycles, even how he once got badly injured. She spoke endlessly.
But inside me, a quiet anxiety lingered, refusing to fade.
As I was leaving, she smiled warmly and said,
"She's such a gentle, bright, and lovely girl. Come visit us again, my dear."
Once we got into the car, I couldn't hold back my frustration.
"My love, why didn't you tell me you were introducing me to your mother? I would have prepared, even chosen my clothes more carefully," I said.
He simply smiled.
"It's okay. You're naturally beautiful. My mom liked you very much—don't worry."
Then he added casually,
"Next, let's visit your parents."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"What? When?"
"Not right now. You tell them first, then we'll go together. That sounds better," he said.
A week later, he came to meet my parents. My older sister and two younger brothers welcomed him warmly. My father stood up quickly from his seat.
"My son, you've come! Sit down, eat, drink. Gerlee, make some tea," he said with surprising warmth.
I was startled by how naturally my father called him "my son."
Then my father added,
"As long as the two of you truly care for each other, we have nothing to object to."
It felt as though he was already giving me away.
My mother then asked,
"And what do you think, my son?"
Bayarkhuu replied confidently,
"I love Gerlee deeply. I will take her as my wife and make her happy."
At first, his words sounded beautiful—but suddenly, a strange feeling of losing my freedom pierced through me. Doubt flickered in my heart.
He turned to me and asked,
"Will you marry me?"
I stood there speechless, overwhelmed by countless thoughts racing through my mind.
"Answer him, my dear," my mother urged gently.
Caught off guard, I blurted out,
"Yes… yes."
We had only been together for six months, yet everything moved so quickly—we were already talking about living together.
After more conversation, food, and even showing my childhood photos, it was time for him to leave. As we sat in the car, he asked,
"Why are you so quiet?"
"I didn't expect you to say something like that," I admitted. "You make such sudden decisions. I think I need at least a year to work first."
"That's fine," he said calmly. "You can work, I will too. It'll all work out. By the way, did your parents like me?"
"I think they did. They were very kind," I replied.
He seemed relieved.
It all felt so sudden—we hadn't even truly discussed it between ourselves, yet we had already involved our families and made decisions.
One day, he said,
"Instead of going back and forth between our homes, why don't you move in with me?"
I agreed.
And just like that, we began living together.
Time seemed to pass so quickly when we were side by side. He would hold me, kiss me. I cooked for him, took care of him. Sometimes we argued over small things—as all couples do. In those moments, we began to truly understand each other.
Our parents opposed the idea of a formal wedding. They believed that if two hearts truly belonged together, even starting life with nothing was enough.
So without any ceremony, we simply started our life together.
When I fell ill, he cared for me. I cooked for him. We went to work together and returned home together. We cooked, we ate, and sometimes, when we felt lazy, we dined out.
Life is a strange thing.
When something is meant to happen, it simply does.
And just like that, our life together began.
At first, I felt an emptiness deep inside me. But slowly, I grew used to this life—our life.