LOVE ME, BABY

MORGANA FOSTER

A girl walked out of the room, and there was no smile on her face. That meant there was still a small chance of salvation for me and my father. That I could leave there married and "happy."

What a tasteless joke!

With two jobs and accumulating college tuition, and my father undergoing chemotherapy, I was exhausted. Not only were the college expenses piling up, but the hospital bill was also increasing, and my father's health had deteriorated significantly in recent months. That's why, and only because of that, I decided to show up for this sham marriage interview.

Yes, this is at least stupid. Who still needs such a thing in the 21st century?

He could be too shy to find a wife. He could be a busy executive who didn't want to bother with finding a real wife. Or simply, he could be an ugly man. A million thoughts crossed my mind as I waited for my name to be called, praying that the other girl didn't come off better than I would now.

The simple idea of a sham marriage to solve my financial problems and save my father's life was almost ridiculous, but in the face of adversity, it was the only solution I could see. Without romantic expectations or personal interests, it all boiled down to survival. The idea of a union out of obligation, just to keep my father alive, echoed in my mind like a necessary mantra.

A disgusted laugh escaped my lips. Really, whoever my prospective partner was, they were a person with a lot of money and influence because even this hotel was too expensive and luxurious for an ordinary person.

I was so deep in debt that my only options were to enter into this contract marriage or become a prostitute. Not that there was much difference between the two, despite my attempts to convince myself that there was.

Neither seemed like a good option. But of two evils, the lesser one, right? This was my lifeline.

The idea of selling my commitment or my dignity out of financial necessity crushed my pride and suffocated me. However, the sense of helplessness and the urgency to help my father led me to consider any alternative, no matter how inhumane it seemed.

I entered the dark and empty room, with the few beams of light penetrating the thin curtains contrasting with the opulent surroundings. I sat in one of the chairs, nervously waiting. The door opened, and an elderly man entered the room.

"Good afternoon, Miss..." He began, his eyes carefully assessing me as I tried not to appear too out of place.

"Morgana. Morgana Melissa Foster," I replied, attempting to control the tremor in my voice.

The man sat down, looking at me with a thoughtful expression. "I understand that you're here out of urgent need, Miss Foster." I raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't you think I've investigated each candidate before this selection?"

I shook my head negatively, and the elderly man chuckled, reclining in his chair. "There are several clauses you'll have to fulfill if you accept the final proposal. However, the marriage we're considering is not a trivial decision. My grandson, Ryan, is going through challenging circumstances. He's not seeking a wife for mere formality but out of specific needs."

I swallowed the lump in my throat before responding. "I understand, sir. I'm aware of the difficulties on both sides. I'm here because I see no other way out of my family's financial troubles, especially my father's health. That's the most important thing for me right now."

"I understand your situation, but we need to ensure that, if this proceeds, it will be a solution benefiting both parties. This is not a common contract; it's an agreement that will require mutual understanding and respect."

We talked for some more time, detailing the expectations and needs of both parties. At the end of the conversation, Mr. Burke looked at me with a serious expression. "If this goes forward, remember, Miss Foster, that everything we do here will have consequences. Seek wisdom beyond necessity, and perhaps, who knows, something more than just a convenience contract may emerge."

"So, does that mean I passed?" I shook my head in a daze. "I mean..."

"Just sign, child."

I signed the paper so quickly that before I knew it, I was in the registry office wearing a simple blue dress with modest embroidery on the bust. It was the only thing suitable for the occasion. My supposed fiancé entered the small anteroom where the wedding would take place, angry enough to knock over the table with a lamp beside him.

"My grandfather must be crazy!" he shouted, pacing back and forth. The loud shouts echoing in my ears made me tremble. "How dare he deceive me into marrying..."

He froze mid-sentence when he noticed my presence and stared at me for the first time, while I shrunk my body into the corner of the room.

Feeling tiny under the weight of his gaze filled with contempt.

The awkward silence lingered for a moment as I tried not to appear so fragile and vulnerable in this situation. The tension hung heavy in the air, as if fate had been torn from our hands and forced into a situation that neither of us truly desired.

"I'm sorry... I..." I murmured, trying to break the discomfort.

He looked at me, his eyes betraying a mix of disbelief and irritation. There were no words to soothe the whirlwind of emotions that seemed to consume us at that moment.

"Come on, let's get this over with," he growled, looking away while the tension between us was palpable.

The officiant entered the room, drawing our attention to the beginning of what was being forced to be a marriage. The words of the officiant were a mere murmur, lost amid the emotional chaos that surrounded us. As he spoke about unity, love, and commitment, it seemed that each phrase was another blow to the already open wound.

After the ceremony, I was introduced to Ryan's entire family.

We arrived at the house his grandfather had given us as a wedding gift, and silence hung in the room for a moment.

"Well, I guess that's it," Ryan said, breaking the silence with an indifferent tone. "Now that the formalities are done, we need to make it clear how this will work. I don't want interference in my life, and you shouldn't expect me to be involved in yours either."

I nodded, accepting the coldness in his words. It was evident that neither of us was willing to turn this convenience marriage into anything more than a practical arrangement.

"Agreed. Each of us lives our life, no questions, no expectations," I replied, trying to sound as resolute as he did.

"Great. Here are the basic rules." Ryan took a piece of paper from his pocket and began listing the conditions of our agreement. "No emotional involvement. No questions about each other's personal lives. This is a business, and we need to keep that clear."

The coldness of his words was like a confirmation that this marriage would be anything but conventional. It was a pragmatic agreement, a contract to help us overcome our individual difficulties.

"Of course, understood," I murmured, storing the rules in my mind as I tried to digest the surrealness of the situation.

"If you need anything financially, use this," he handed me a black card, "hopefully, I won't have any issues with you."

I stared at the handsome man with a cold expression in front of me, took the card in my fingers, and watched him leave. Despite being married on paper, our lives would remain separate, each navigating our own turbulent waters until we no longer needed each other.