As a 34-year-old, being single had become a constant topic of discussion with my parents. Their determination for grandchildren led them to introduce me to countless potential partners. Their ultimate condition, however, crossed the line—they withheld my future inheritance until I tied the knot by my 35th birthday, which was fast approaching.
One particularly frustrating day, as I was out for a walk, a woman caught my eye. She sat on the corner, her hair in disarray, clutching a tattered cardboard sign that simply read, “Need help.” Despite her appearance, her eyes held a gentle warmth that drew me in. On an impulsive whim, I approached her with a proposition: I’d marry her simply to appease my parents. In exchange, I promised her essentials like shelter and clothing. She would just need to play the part of my wife.
Her name was Jessica, and to my surprise, she accepted. Soon enough, she was wearing clean clothes and ready to meet my parents as my fiancée. Ecstatic, they were convinced their dreams of a family wedding were finally coming true.
Following a swift wedding, a month passed when I returned home one evening—and nothing could have prepared me for the surprise that lay ahead.
The household was immaculate, boasting a cleanliness I hadn’t known it could possess. The inviting aroma of a home-cooked meal filled the air, and vibrant flowers adorned the dining table. Entering the living room, I found Jessica, who greeted me with a warm smile, setting dinner on the table.
