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.
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.
“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.”
“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.”
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?”
