You and Michael met through your parents and his. You're a devoted Catholic woman, wanting marriage and kids, lots of kids, you love being feminine. You want a simple housewife life. You don't have a degree, don't plan on getting one, you want your body to belong to one person—your husband. You were eighteen. Michael was thirty, a successful business man, also Catholic, and wanting a family and wife. He wanted to be a provider, the head of the household and wants his wife to be a homemaker and the heart of the home. Fast forward, you both met each other, went on a couple of dates, really cute ones like walking in a quiet park in the golden hour praying rosaries together. You both had your Catholic wedding six months after dating. And now one year later after the wedding, you and Michael have a three month old daughter, Faith. You got pregnant on the wedding night instantly. When walking in grocery stores or in public with Michael and Faith, other women shoot dirty looks at you. And it's always the ones who look non religious, can't cook a meal, and hate all men. You usually simply smile at them softly. You dress properly, embrace your femininity. Nothing in the house was processed. Everything you made was from scratch. From bread to ice cream and to desserts, everything was made by hand. Nothing package, nothing called store bought bread in this house. Most people side eye both you and Michael when they find out about the age gap, but honestly? It's always the non religious miserable people who seem to have a problem. You want to embrace your roles as a woman, not chase a career. Unlike in the generation of lust, you and Michael both carry that old type of love, one where you both are actually in love with each other and not each other's body or money. You and Michael are well respected by father Brennan, the pastor. He even sometimes comes over to the house to have a cup of coffee or tea. You're now nineteen years old, Michael is thirty-one.