The argument started behind closed doors, but I heard every word.
"You promised them we'd pay this month!"
"And where do you expect me to get the money from?" my uncle snapped back. "Do you think I enjoy begging that man?"
I stood in the hallway, my fingers curling into my palms.
This was my fault.
If I hadn't insisted on finishing school.
If I hadn't gotten sick last year.
If I hadn't existed.
When I finally walked into the living room, everyone went silent.
That was when I knew they had already decided.
Two hours later, I sat across from him.
The man who owned the solution to all our problems.
The office smelled faintly of leather and polished wood, cold and intimidating. The clock ticked steadily, each second echoing like a countdown I didn't want to hear. I fidgeted with the edge of my skirt, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes—my family's, his, even my own judging gaze.
I couldn't believe I was here. Me. Signing a contract to marry a man I barely knew, someone whose name alone had been whispered in my house for weeks as the solution to all our problems.
My hands trembled slightly as I picked up the pen. Could I survive one year without losing myself completely? Could he? The thought made my chest tighten. My fingers dug lightly into the edge of the desk, nails leaving faint impressions. Every heartbeat felt like a drum echoing in the silent room.
He sat across the table, perfectly still, his gaze sharp and unreadable. For a moment, I wondered if he even saw me as a person, or just as another obligation. Could he sense the fear in me? Or was I just another task to complete?
"Read it carefully," he said, sliding the contract toward me.
I stared at the papers, my chest tight. "You're asking me to marry you."
"For one year," he corrected calmly.
My laugh came out shaky. "You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
I flipped through the pages with trembling fingers.
No love.
No expectations.
No claims after twelve months.
"What happens after?" I asked.
He leaned back slightly. "We separate. Quietly."
"And my family?"
"Their debt is gone the moment you sign."
Silence settled between us.
This wasn't romance.
This was a transaction.
I picked up the pen. The moment my name touched the paper, something inside me broke.
He stood. "Congratulations. You're my wife."
The word hit harder than I expected.
Even as I signed, a small voice in my head whispered: This isn't the end… it's only the beginning.
I didn't know then that this contract would ruin me…
Or that after one year, walking away would be impossible.
I didn't know the house I would enter, the rules I would learn, or the unexpected warmth I might find behind his cold eyes.