He looked at me, considering. “So, you’re saying… you need a fake husband?”
“Exactly. A business deal.” I swallowed. “Just something to get my father off my back.” I quickly found my father’s photo on my phone and showed it to the janitor. “Here.”
He paused, studying the picture carefully. He frowned, as if he recognized the man. “Name’s Ethan,” he said, his hand outstretched. “You’re really serious about this?”
I nodded. “As serious as I’ll ever be.” Ethan still looked hesitant, like he was waiting for me to admit this was some joke.
“Look, you don’t know me. This could be trouble,” he said, studying me. His eyes had a steady look, grounded, and not unkind.
“It’s just a contract,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I won’t bother you after. You’ll be free to go on with your life.”
For a long moment, he was silent, watching me with an unreadable expression. Finally, he exhaled slowly. “All right,” he said, voice low. “If it gets you out of this mess. Just know, I’m not one to back out once I’m in something.”
I felt a rush of relief I hadn’t expected. “Thank you,” I said, almost breathless. “Thank you, Ethan.”
He gave me a small, knowing smile. “Guess I’ve always been a little crazy. But this—this might just take the cake.”
That afternoon, we went straight to city hall. No white dress, no flowers, just a piece of paper and two strangers signing it together.
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