“I know that, but seriously, I’m supposed to be his type. He’s supposed to look at me right? Like we’re supposed to have something—” “Lily, this isn’t love,” Jessie said simply. “It’s just convenience.” “But—” “Lily, you were forced to marry him. Why does it matter to you if he looks at you?” Because this was what I was supposed to be. I was doing everything my mother said to do. Men were supposed to care.
