Daghter 192

Finished

Jordan approached with a perfectly polite, professional smile and handed Yunice a thick stack of papers.

“Ms. Saunders, here you go.”

Yunice looked down and saw the brown words “Premarital Medical Exam” stamped across the top of the envelope full of documents.

She blinked. “We’re doing a physical exam before marriage?”

She’d thought people like these powerhouses usually skipped everything except the marriage license and the wedding night.

Jordan replied, “It’s best to be sure. That way Wyatt’s at ease, and you are too—right?”

True, Yunice thought. Wyatt probably just wanted to make sure she was clean. In this day and age, it made sense to check.

“Wyatt’s over there,” Jordan said, gesturing.

Yunice followed his hand and spotted a tall figure, head and shoulders above the backs of the benches.

She hesitated, then leaned in to ask, “Do we really have to wait in line for a premarital exam?”

Shouldn’t someone like Wyatt be able to wave his hand and summon an entire streamlined service staff just for the two of them?

“Ms. Saunders,” Jordan replied solemnly, “as citizens, we must uphold public order and refrain from abusing our privileges. Don’t you agree?”

Yunice gave him a look like he’d lost his mind, then turned away and headed toward Wyatt with the paperwork.

Unfortunately, Wyatt had his arms crossed and his eyes closed—she couldn’t tell whether he was actually asleep or just resting.

Yunice glanced at the long line ahead. It would be a while before their turn came, so she didn’t wake him. She sat beside him and started scanning the medical forms.

Just then, a man’s voice nearby—grating and unfiltered—cut through her thoughts.

“She’s loose and saggy now. I’d rather do it myself than touch her. When she was pregnant, her neck, armpits, and chest turned black. I swear, it was disgusting. She gained fifty pounds! I had to lift her belly just to—ugh, forget it. I couldn’t even get in…”

Yunice grimaced, her eyebrows scrunching in revulsion. She glanced up and saw a slick-haired, wiry man with a leather portfolio under his arm plop down in the row ahead.

Holding back the urge to gag, she lowered her eyes and focused on the exam forms, trying to tune him out.

Whispers rippled through the surrounding crowd. Someone shot the man a disapproving look, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Was he bothering you?” Wyatt asked quietly.

Yunice startled. She hadn’t noticed him waking up.

Wyatt rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I woke up because of the noise.”

Yunice bit her lip, surprised. It was rare for him to be disturbed so easily.

“Want me to move seats?” she asked softly.

Wyatt gave a low grunt, clearly uninterested.

When he opened his eyes fully a moment later, he found Yunice gently pressing the web between his thumb and index finger with her small fingers.

“Seriously, your tension couldn’t be more obvious,” she whispered, mimicking the posture of a massage therapist. “Pressing here helps calm the nerves. It’s good for sleep too. But relax—we won’t be called anytime soon.”

Wyatt didn’t argue and let her hold his hand.

Yunice looked up slightly, catching the faintest trace of henbane on him—barely there, but unmistakable