I’m 34, and my parents kept pushing me to get married. Their insistence was relentless because they desperately wanted grandchildren. They even tried to set me up with everyone they knew.
Eventually, they crossed a line by threatening: if I didn’t find a wife before I turned 35, they would cut me out of their inheritance. With only a few months left, their ultimatum was getting on my nerves.
One day, while walking down the street, frustrated by the situation, my gaze fell upon a woman sitting at the corner of a sidewalk.
Her clothes were dirty, her hair tangled, and she was holding a cardboard sign that said, “Need help.”
Despite her appearance, there was a kindness in her eyes that touched me. Without thinking, I made her a crazy offer: I would marry her to calm my parents down. In return, I would give her shelter, food, and clothes, and she would just have to pretend to be my wife.
However, just a month after our marriage, when I came home, I was confronted with a scene that left me speechless.
That evening, I walked through the front door expecting to find Jessica as usual, probably lounging on the couch doing nothing, as she had been since the start of our arrangement.
After all, our marriage was just a formal agreement with no particular expectations. But what I discovered exceeded anything I could have imagined.
The house was sparkling clean, more spotless than ever before. A delicious smell of freshly cooked food filled the air, and a beautiful bouquet of flowers sat on the dining table.
As I walked into the living room, I found Jessica, radiant, setting down a plate of food while flashing a warm smile.
