Page 43 of Fathom

I’d seen it in one of the shows.

This was where people got married.

The breath caught in my throat.

For a moment, I didn't feel anything at all, then joy slowly spread, a warmth filling my heart, radiating outward, butting up against the part of me that had expectations. There was a way that this was supposed to go. He hadn't gotten down on one knee and proposed properly in the form of my culture or taken a quiet moment and held both my hands in the standard of his... except... there was that one moment when I was limp andgloriously exhausted, when he had held my hands like that and said something that I said yes? That couldn't be it. Plus, in those dramas I watched, the couples usually got married before they went all the way. That wasn't something I cared about, and just because the media would promote something didn't mean it held true for the culture as a whole. But what if that was the reason Eun was rushing us?

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter that this was rushed. It didn't matter that I didn't have a ring, or in the case of his culture, rings. It didn't matter because of the small sunbeam in my heart that exploded at the idea that he wanted to marry me so badly he wanted to do it right now. I loved him. I needed him to know that the joy I felt in his presence was real. This wasn't about dependence or survival. This was about the fact that when I looked at him, I saw the kind of man I always wanted to be with, the kind of person who was hard working, generous, and would put his body on the line to protect me from danger.

I saw him for who he was beneath the alien exterior.

The hours he spent working, the way he focused on his work, even if it was menial, the way helistened, the way henever turned away. He was dedicated, focused, and kind. He was powerful, aggressive, and self-contained. He desired me so badly, but he had held back until I literally begged him because he wanted to keep me safe, even from himself. The thought that he could hurt me the way that his culture claimed he would caused him to draw away from me, lock himself up, even though we both had the proof that he wouldn't.

He would fight and kill to protect me.

Even though he was an alien, he waseverythingI had searched for and never found.

And now he’d brought me here.

Tothisplace.

The place where people choose each other.

The place where people saidforever.

At least, the kinds of people who didn't have much money. The people in the shows who were represented as wealthy didn't go to this building; the officials came to their weddings. That didn't matter to me either. I knew what I was getting into. Eun ran deliveries and washed dishes, but that job could afford a decent apartment. The only reason lower-paid labor positions had any stigma against them was because they didn't pay a living wage. There were plenty of people who would be content to spend their lives washing dishes or serving tables, fulfilling the roles that society needed to function, but to be happy doing that, they needed to be able to feed their kids and have a safe place to live. It wasn't rocket science. To have a stable economy with a population that is able to support innovation and growth, the work-life balance and well-being of a dishwasher was just as important as that of a banker.

Our names were called, which distracted me from my internal sociological rant, and we walked up to a long counter, separated from the woman behind it by a thick pane of glass.

At least, I assumed she was a woman based on her delicate features and clothing that was associated with femininity in this culture, but I wasn't completely sure. What I was sure about was that she had huge spiraling horns that curved up, reminding me of the dead body that had been hanging in the air in the warehouse. I took a sharp breath in as fear from the memory rushed through me, and the woman's nostrils widened, sniffing the air. She glanced up from the paperwork, giving me a suddenly sharp look that cut through her previous look of utter boredom. Her ears jutted out to the sides, tipped with tufts offur, and despite her slow, elegant movements, there was nothing soft about her gaze.

She pursed her lips and looked at me, reallylooked, head tilted slightly to the side.

"Do you want to be here with him?" she asked.

The tone said more than the words.

She looked at Eun like he was something unpleasant she’d stepped in. Disbelief curled at the corners of her lips, just under the twin craters of her nose.

Her eyes swept me up and down, judgment blatant, but I wasn't sure what she was judging me about. I had my guess from the dramas I had watched. Maybe because I smelled afraid, and I had all the soft features of a species more associated with being prey? I couldn't be sure, but that was my best guess.

My pulse skipped. I didn’t know the exact words, but I understood the question.

And I understood what she thought the answershouldbe.

“I want to be with Eun,” I said, careful and deliberate, hoping my phrasing wasn’t completely wrong. "I am happy to be here."

Her gaze lingered one second longer, then she passed a clipboard under the glass, a key attached by a fraying loop of wire.

She paused.

Her hand stayed on the clipboard, fingers splayed like she was staking a claim.

Eun slid another envelope across the counter.

“For the trouble,” he said.