One crisp autumn afternoon, I finally reached my limit. I walked out of the house, leaving behind the cold silence that felt more like a mausoleum than a home, and wandered through the city without any destination. I just needed to breathe.
That was when I noticed him.
A young man with a slight limp was sweeping fallen leaves outside a row of small shops.
He worked slowly and carefully, each movement almost peaceful, as though he belonged to the rhythm of the street.
Before I could second-guess myself, I walked over.
“Excuse me,” I said, my voice trembling. He looked up with quiet surprise but waited patiently.
“Hi… I—” I drew a steadying breath. “I need a husband. How would you feel about getting married today?”
One eyebrow lifted.
“You serious?” he asked calmly.
“Yes,” I answered, though the desperation in my voice was impossible to hide. “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.”
