A girl with her father | Source: Midjourney
In his world, I was an asset, a chess piece in his lifelong game. My future husband? He’d be the “strategic partner” for our family’s gain, not a person to love or laugh with.
I’d spent my entire life under my father’s thumb. He wasn’t cruel, exactly, but to him, everything was a cold, calculated, and profitable business.
You’ll thank me one day, he would always say, his voice firm and final. It’s not about love, dear. It’s about stability. Real love comes from stability, from strength.
“Anna, you’re our only child. You have a responsibility. Can’t you understand that?” he said one evening over yet another quiet dinner.
One cool autumn afternoon, I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped out of the house, leaving behind the cold silence that felt more like a tomb than a home, and started walking through the city. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I needed to escape, if only for a few hours.
As I turned a corner, I saw him. He was a young man with a slight limp, sweeping leaves off the sidewalk in front of a row of shops.
A man sweeping the street | Source: Midjourney
He moved slowly, carefully, as if each sweep of the broom was part of some quiet ritual. There was something peaceful in the way he worked, like he was part of the city itself.
Without even thinking, I walked over to him.
“Excuse me,” I said, my voice shaking. He looked up, surprised, but didn’t say a word, just waited.
Hi… I I took a breath, steadying myself. I need a husband. How would you feel about getting married today?
He raised an eyebrow, looking at me like I’d just stepped out of a different world.
“You serious?” he asked, his voice deep but calm.
“Yes,” I replied, trying to sound steady, but the desperation in my voice slipped through. “It’s not… it’s not what you think. This isn’t about love or anything like that. It’s just… I need to get out of a situation.”
He looked at me, considering. “So, you’re saying… you need a fake husband?”
“Exactly. A business deal.” I swallowed. “Just something to get my father off my back.”
He paused, watching me carefully. “Name’s Ethan,” he said, his hand outstretched. “You’re really serious about this?”
I nodded. “As serious as I’ll ever be.
Ethan still looked hesitant, like he was waiting for me to admit this was some joke. “Look, I don’t know you. You don’t know me. This could be trouble,” he said, studying me. His eyes had a steady look, grounded, and not unkind.
“It’s just a contract,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I won’t bother you after. You’ll be free to go on with your life.”
For a long moment, he was silent, watching me with an unreadable expression. Finally, he exhaled slowly. “All right,” he said, voice low. “If it gets you out of this mess. Just know, I’m not one to back out once I’m in something.”
I felt a rush of relief I hadn’t expected. “Thank you,” I said, almost breathless. “Thank you, Ethan.”
He gave me a small, knowing smile. “Guess I’ve always been a little crazy. But this—this might just take the cake.”
That afternoon, we went straight to city hall. No white dress, no flowers, just a piece of paper and two strangers signing it together.
When we walked out of that building, Ethan turned to me with a grin. “Well, looks like we’re in this together now.”
Then, reality hit. I’d just married a stranger.
The next few days felt like a whirlwind. Ethan and I settled into a routine that was both strange and strangely comforting.
A young couple in their living room | Source: Midjourney
In his world, life was simple, unhurried, and he showed me things I’d never paid attention to, like how to make breakfast without help, or how to budget for groceries.
When my father found out I’d married, he was livid. He called me every hour, his messages curt, his tone icy. After days of ignoring him, I finally answered the phone.
“What is going on, Anna?” he demanded. “You married someone—a stranger! A janitor! Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s my life, Dad,” I replied, feeling my voice shake.
“You have responsibilities, Anna. Do you think the world is going to respect this… this nonsense? I’ll come by tomorrow. I want to meet this husband of yours.”
“Fine, Dad,” I said, feeling a chill at the thought. But I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever.
The next evening, my father arrived at our small apartment. Dressed in his usual designer suit, he surveyed the space with a look of disgust, glancing at the mismatched furniture and modest decor like it was offensive.
Anna, are you really staying here? he asked, turning to me with disappointment.
“This is our home,” I replied, folding my arms. I could feel Ethan’s presence behind me, calm and steady.
They shook hands, a small bridge over years of loss and resentment. I watched as my father and Andrew turned toward us, the past falling away as they embraced a future together as two families, united by the strength it took to forgive.
