But Takashi had been lucky—or rather, just the right combination of lucky, reckless, and clever. He had struggled, and schemed, and spun excuses, and somehow managed to hold off marriage until his tyrannical father had passed away and there were no Matsuda elders left to tell him what to do. Then, instead of marrying a pure-blooded noblewoman of his family’s choosing, Takashi married the woman he loved—the peasant with the loud laugh who sold him his fresh fish.
The things we do for love
