“A man’s living with an underage girl over here! Come quick!” That’s exactly what the neighbours told the police.

My wife and I had spent months after our wedding carefully searching for a flat, and at last, we found one and took out a mortgage. For a long time, I went there alone, organising the builders and overseeing the renovation. My wife rarely visited, so it happened that I became acquainted with our elderly neighbours across the hall—a grandmother and grandfather. Since we didn’t know anyone else in the building and wanted to celebrate our new home somehow, we decided to invite them over.

Once they sat down at the table and met my wife, something shifted in their demeanour. Honestly, I was a little unsettled at their odd behaviour, but my wife’s soft kisses and gentle embrace distracted me from such thoughts. They left in a rush—no explanation—and we were too happy to dwell on it.

We woke far too early to a heavy knock at the door. I knew our new life was already taking a strange turn, because a constable stood there, eyeing me with suspicion.

“Good morning, I’m the neighbourhood officer. Here’s my badge. Now, show me your marriage certificate—yours and your *wife’s*,” he demanded. I was baffled but had no choice but to dig through the clutter of unpacked boxes to find it.

Ten minutes later, I handed it over. The officer squinted between my wife and the document twice, frowned in confusion, then muttered, “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.”

“Sorry, but what’s this about?”

“We received a report last night that a middle-aged man was living with an underage girl in this flat—suspected to be under sixteen.”

I burst out laughing. The truth was, my wife was a year older than me! I was twenty-two; she was twenty-three. True, she was petite with a baby face, and yesterday—no makeup, hair in a ponytail—she could’ve passed for a schoolgirl. Meanwhile, the stress of managing the flat had aged me, exhaustion and stubble turning me into an uncle overnight.

Time for a proper rest and a shave. Wouldn’t do to look like my darling wife’s uncle, would it?