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Prologue

They were at it again. Bickering, bickering and bickering. This wasn't their first time and with absolute certainty it would not be their last. It was just how they worked. They grated on each other's nerves and went at it. Very rarely, both of them would come out satisfied. It took very little to start a fight between them. Don't get me wrong, their fights weren't blood inducing, plates flying kinds of fights. Their fights were childish; it was embarrassing to watch when they started. Luckily for them, no one was ever there to witness these fights. Only two people in the world had.

.

The boy was already awake. This was usual for him given his work schedule. He tried not to change his sleeping cycle too much even on the weekends. What wasn't the usual was the girl wasn't awake. Now, it wasn't the usual but it had happened before and he knew the reason behind it. But that didn't stop the boredom that he was feeling. He bellowed the girl's name and heard a distinct groan that he recognised so much. That groan came only when she was irritated and he would like to think that he was the only person to ever cause such noise from her.

The girl had only three hours of sleep when she heard her name being called. She just finished her assignment and had to hand it to her partner for the said partner to finish and submit it by the end of the week.

The boy, impatient, called her again louder this time and inquired the whereabouts of his beloved remote in the same breath. Wanting to get it over with, the girl rolled off the bed and threw open her door. In her haste to get down, she tripped at the stairs. Her quick hand grabbed the railing and glared at the boy, who snickered at her. With an accusatory glance at the boy, she began to search the living room. She was sure the boy was the last to use it last night to watch baseball.

When he corrected her, saying that it was softball, it irked her. Not because she got the name of the game wrong, but because it proved that he was the last to use the remote and subsequently misplaced it.

The boy watched as the girl went through every cushion in the living room. He wouldn't lie; there were a lot of cushions. The girl stopped picking up cushions to look under them; instead, she resorted to just kicking them around. The boy used her busyness to prepare breakfast. Not preparing it per se. He took out the milk from the fridge and their array of choices of cereal and put them on the counter, he prepared one for himself and put one bowl beside him on his right, shielding it from view. He didn't want her to know that he intended on preparing breakfast. He just wanted her to see the mess he made, the haphazardly placed cereal boxes meaning that he was just simply having a hard time choosing a cereal, but the bowl he was hiding showed his true intention. The whole paradoxical way of his mind showed just how weird the boy was.

The girl gave a loud huff and looked to the left only to find the boy eating his cereal. Upon further inspection, her keen eyes saw something that the boy wanted to keep hidden; she marched over and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Eating breakfast, of course," the boy answered, almost gleefully thinking his plan was working.

The girl narrowed her eyes and asked again, "What is that?" She wanted him to admit it rather than have to point it out herself.

But of course that wasn't what the boy had in mind. Paradox, remember? So he evaded. "What is what?"

The girl glared at him. After a while she lost her patience and reached forward. Only not towards the direction of the bowl.

"This," she said, grabbing the remote from his waistband. "What is this doing there?"

The boy's quick mind thought for an excuse and blurted it out. "What are you so angry for? I found it here."

The girl shut her eyes and counted backwards from ten. She opened them and asked, "Yeah? What was it doing in the kitchen, when you have a table in front of the TV where we put all the other remotes?"

"I left it here. I went to grab a beer last night and forgot to take it with me. You cannot watch a game without a beer."

The girl knew he was lying because they ran out of beer and she hadn't shopped for groceries yet.

"Milk?" he supplied. The self-proclaimed quick mind could only come out with milk as his beverage of choice to watch the game with.

The girl sunk to the floor and started to tap her hands and feet on the floor, screaming, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

The boy started to feel bad and explained himself. What seemed justifiable in his mind only aggravated the girl more. Because apparently, 'the weather is good and the sun isn't shining,' was a good enough of an excuse to wake up people who have been up most of the night.

The girl stopped hitting the floor and the boy felt slightly better. "You can't knock?" she asked.

The boy scoffed, because they both knew a simple knock wouldn't wake the girl up once she was out. The wood of the door was hard enough that a rap at the door wouldn't sound so loud. At times like these, the boy thought of the girl as the sleeping beauty that could only be awakened with – no, not a kiss, but – the sound of his annoyingly loud voice.

The girl retorted, saying there are a number of ways to wake people up other than shouting at them. To which the boy pointed that almost everything the girl said was impossible simply because he wasn't allowed to enter the girl's room.

"That is a sign right there, that you shouldn't wake me up! I mean it," she said.

And the girl stormed back upstairs to resume her slumber. "The living room better be clean when I get down or I won't make any dinner for you, and it's lasagne night today," she threatened him.

The boy's eyes lit up at the mention of lasagne and started to clean up, rearranging all the cushions, and complaining all the while because the girl was the one who kicked them around. It wasn't his fault that the living room was in a mess.

The girl couldn't resume her slumber. The boy had kicked the sleepiness out of her system. She plopped down her comfy bed and looked around her room. Besides her messenger bag and some of the clothes in her closet, none of the stuff in this room was hers.

She gave a loud sigh and thought of how different things were at this time last year. She hadn't been in a good place at this time last year. But at least she had been where she wanted to be: in a house with her best friend and finishing her degree. She was also during that time searching high and low for money to pay for a car she wrecked. That fateful day. The day she would never forget.

She wasn't really successful in searching money for the payment of the car but she did make a deal to get out of it, which resulted in her having the things she considered luxurious in front of her. Her bed was upgraded to a king size and covered in the softest material. Her south wall was covered with bookshelves from the floor to the ceiling. Half of which were yet to be filled. The clothes in her closet were hers, but only 45% of them. The bathroom, well let's say that it was one of her favourite places in the world.

It sounded like a win – win deal, didn't it? Why was she fretting? She didn't have to pay for the car, and instead got to live luxuriously as she said.

Putting it that way certainly painted a negative picture of her.

What about the car owner? What deal that he made?

Let's just say that he was also living the life he wanted, luxuriously. Although, that was the only way he had ever lived in but this particular deal had made his life easier. The said deal had gotten the girl out of paying for his car.

The deal sounded one sided, didn't it?

The girl didn't pay and lived luxuriously. The owner had to pay for the wreck she caused.

And just what was the connection between the boy and the car owner? The girls were obviously the same person. Would it be a shock if the boy was the car owner? Well, it was the truth.

Confused?

Let's make it simple.

Because the girl couldn't pay for the damages to his car, the car owner, a.k.a the boy, made a deal that will get her out of paying and at the same time made his life easy as well.

The deal made was: the girl had to marry the boy.

Yes, the bickering 12 year olds were in fact husband and wife. No, they weren't really 12 year olds, they just acted like them. Yes, the both had better things to do than marrying each other, or other people for that matter. But they did anyway.

Why oh why did they get married?

We'll get to the bottom of the reason why Isabella Swan agreed to marry Edward Cullen. And why Edward Cullen needed to get marry Isabella Swan.

Love was not the answer.