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A/N: Yeah. The title pretty much explains it. This is my fantasy. I know a few of you might view it as something kind of childish, buuuuut, I'm allowed to daydream and have my fantasies, aren't I?

I stand outside my cabin, breathing in the cold air outside. I live with my wife in a cozy log cabin in the middle of the woods. She is out at work, so I'm home by myself. I hadn't felt genuine happiness until I had met her. She was perfect.

I chuckle slightly as I remember when I was a little kid. I had written stories about the day. I had daydreamed about finding my prince. I had even written stories about it. I was never meant to find a prince, but instead to rescue a beautiful princess from the harm she wanted to cause herself. I never would have guessed it, though. At least, not when I was that little. I was always taught it was always a man and a woman. Always. With absolutely no exceptions at all. It looks like it was only a stupid lie-shied against homosexuality and the truth.

I have a hard time thinking about what it would be like without my beautiful, wonderful wife. She means everything to me. She is the very center of my universe.

A hear the time go off in the kitchen. It's time to take the pie out of the oven. I go into the kitchen, pull it out of the oven, and put it on the counter before sitting down and watching something stupid on TV.

About a half hour later, the door opens. "I'm home."

"Gabi~!" I squeal childishly, jumping up and giving her a hug and a quick kiss on the lips. "I made some pie if you want some!" Before waiting for a reply I rush into the kitchen to get her a piece.

I run back with two pieces, smiling as I always do. My life was perfect. Nothing was missing. It was the kind of perfect I never knew even existed.

We both sit down on the couch. Before she begins eating, she kisses me cheek, making me giggle a bit, and her too, because she says she thinks my laugh is adorable. (But, in all honesty, hers is cuter.)

The storybook of us had been completed a while ago, and now we were living, as it was always repeated at the end of every fairytale, "happily ever after."

It was more perfect, happier, better than any fairytale I had ever read.

It was the perfect story.

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