#WITWContest: Article 13

Article 13

I stare in bewilderment at the letter in my hands for God knows how long. What was I expecting? This was bound to happen at some point, wasn't it? I just thought I had more time.

**

Miss Hanna,

Our records indicate that your 30th birthday will occur on August 9. As of the date of this notice, no valid marriage license has been registered under your name.

In accordance with Article 13 of the Family Law, any female who has not entered into a legally recognized marriage by their 30th birthday shall be assigned a spouse by the Ministry of Family and Population Control. Such assignment shall take effect immediately upon the aforementioned date.

Should you believe there is an error in the records, you are required to report without delay to the Family Center corresponding to your place of residence in order to request review and correction.

Respectfully,
Ministry of Family and Population Control

**

The law was passed 15 years ago, when the authorities declared that every measure to increase fertility had failed and humanity was heading toward a population crisis. For decades, families had favored boys over girls, creating a severe gender imbalance. And with more and more women choosing careers and independence, fewer were marrying, causing fertility rates to collapse to alarming levels. Now it was the central issue facing humanity, the only thing people seemed to talk about.

"Are you ready?"

Mike's voice jolts me back to reality. I look at him through misted eyes, confused until I remember we had plans for lunch today.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, trying to hide my distress. I'm not ready to talk about this yet.

But this is Mike. We've known each other for almost 20 years, and if there's anyone who knows me, it's him.

"Hanna," he steps into the office. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it," I insist, reaching for my purse.

He moves closer to the desk and notices the letter. The seal of the Ministry of Family and Population Control is impossible to miss, and in an instant he understands.

"Shit!" he exclaims, his face tightening with worry. "I almost forgot you're turning 30 this year."

Mike is two years younger than me and won't be legally required to marry until 35. Besides, he's been dating someone for almost a year. He probably has nothing to worry about at all.

"This is not nothing," he says, lifting the paper and scanning it.

"I still have four months," I argue, reaching for the letter, but he pulls it out of my grasp.

"Four months is hardly enough, is it?"

It isn't enough. Especially for me. I'm the daughter of the Dissident Carter. No one wants to be associated with me, least of all marry me. I never cared until now, because it gave me freedom to focus on my studies and career, but that has left me vulnerable.

These days, love marriages are a luxury few can afford. I know that. All around me, women are desperately searching for someone they can at least imagine sharing a life with. Love has little to do with it anymore.

But all of this is still fucking unfair.

Mike closes the door and comes so close I can feel his breath on my face.

"You could try to escape," he whispers.

The words make me gasp. Even suggesting such a thing is punishable by life imprisonment. I glance around, terrified someone might have heard us, even though it's only the two of us in the office.