He sat on the sidewalk outside a pharmacy with a cardboard sign beside him. His beard was overgrown, his clothes were worn, and his shoulders carried that quiet kind of exhaustion you only notice if you’re really looking. But his eyes caught me. They were clear. Kind. Intelligent. Not defeated exactly, just… bruised by life.
And before I could talk myself out of it, I stopped.
“This is going to sound insane,” I told him, “but would you like to marry me?”
He blinked at me slowly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “What?”
I took a breath and pushed through the awkwardness.
“I need a husband. Quickly. You need stability. I can give you a home, clothes, food, and money. In return, you pretend to be in love with me long enough to get my parents off my back. That’s it. No romance. No strings. Just an arrangement.”
