**Diary Entry**
*Friday, 12th May*
“An older man is living with an underage girl! Come at once!” Thats what our neighbours told the police when they rang them up. “Theres a man next door with a teenage girl! You need to check it out!”
After our wedding, my wife and I spent months flat-hunting before finally settling on a place with a mortgage. For ages, Id go there alone to oversee the renovations and manage the builders. My wife visited less often, so I ended up chatting with the elderly couple next doorMr and Mrs Wilkins. Being new to the area, we thought itd be nice to celebrate moving in by inviting them over.
The moment they sat down at the table and met my wife, their expressions shifted. Something felt off, but I brushed it asidemy wifes warm hugs and pecks on the cheek distracted me from overthinking. They left in a hurry, and we were too wrapped up in newlywed bliss to dwell on it.
At dawn, a sharp knock woke us. Our fresh start wasnt going as plannedstanding on the doorstep was a stern-looking constable, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Good morning. Neighbourhood constable,” he said, flashing his badge. “Mind showing me your marriage certificate with your wife?” Baffled, I rummaged through unpacked boxes, finally fishing it out after ten minutes.
He scrutinised itand my wifetwice, then raised an eyebrow. “Right. Thatll do, thanks for cooperating.”
“Erm whats this about?”
“We got a call claiming a man was living here with an underage girllikely not even sixteen.”
I burst out laughing. My wife was actually a year older than me! Im 22; shes 23. But with her petite frame, youthful face, and hair in a ponytailno makeupshe could pass for a schoolgirl. Meanwhile, the stress of flat-buying and months of DIY had aged me prematurelytired eyes, unshaven stubbleI looked middle-aged beside her.
Lesson learnt: Ill shave and catch up on sleep before someone mistakes me for her father next time.
