What if…?

Eve

Afterward, I returned to my car, opened my laptop, and tried working from the passenger seat. My eyes kept drifting, my focus slipping every other minute, but I forced myself to keep clicking through documents. Anything to keep from screaming or even crying.

By the time evening crawled in and the sky began to dim, I finally texted Mia.

“Hey, Mia. Did you find anyone? Please tell me you found someone.”

Her reply came seconds later.

“I’m so sorry. I haven’t found anyone yet. I didn’t know it would be this hard.”

My heart dropped so fast it hurt. I slumped back against the seat, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Five days. I had five miserable days to find a husband or lose everything my father built. I tugged at my hair, breathing hard as I stared at the windshield.

“Where am I supposed to find a man?” I muttered to myself. “Where? Who? Anyone. I just need someone.”

The pressure was too much. My thoughts were spinning, and my chest was tight. I needed to breathe. I needed a moment to stop feeling like the world was collapsing in on me. So I drove to the nearest bar, desperately hoping that maybe one drink would calm the storm inside my head.

Inside, the place was dim and warm, filled with soft music and low chatter. I walked straight to the counter, sat down, and ordered a beer. The bottle felt cold against my fingers as I took the first sip, letting the bitterness settle on my tongue. For a moment, I closed my eyes, trying to relax, trying to forget the humiliating day.

I lifted the bottle again, and that was when I felt someone stop beside me.

“I knew I would find you here, love.”

I froze. The voice was warm, deep, smooth enough to send a little shiver down my spine. I turned my head slowly, expecting to see a familiar face, maybe someone from work or an old acquaintance.

But no.

I didn’t know him.

I had never seen him before in my entire life.

He stood there, smiling at me like he’d known me for years. Tall, unbelievably handsome, a charming tilt to his smile and hair styled so perfectly it looked like a magazine shoot. His clothes were immaculate, expensive, effortlessly elegant. Everything about him screamed money, confidence, and trouble wrapped in a breathtaking package.

I blinked at him, confused.

Did he mistake me for someone else?

His eyes swept over me gently, amusement dancing in them as if he’d just caught me doing something cute.

“You look surprised, love,” he said, his smile widening in a slow, effortless curve.

I stared at him from head to toe, still speechless, my fingers unconsciously tightening around the neck of my beer bottle. Nothing about this made sense.

“Why do you keep calling me love?” I finally asked.

He leaned in just a fraction, voice dropping low enough that only I could hear.

“Because I need you to act like you’re my partner,” he murmured. “I’m trying to keep someone away. Just play along.”

My brows knitted tightly. His what? Partner? What kind of stranger walks up to a woman, calls her love, and pulls her into a mess she knew nothing about?

I parted my lips to question him, maybe even shove him back, but I didn’t get the chance.

The bar door swung open.

A woman in a short, blazing red dress stood there, her gaze cutting straight toward us like a blade. Then she marched closer, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, her expression nothing short of murderous.

Her glare slid to me first, ice-cold and evaluating, before snapping back to him.

“Is she the one?” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger.

Without even blinking, he replied, “Yes. She’s my lover...”

And before I could even gasp, his arm slipped around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

I stiffened instantly, startled, my brain scrambling to keep up with the madness unfolding right in front of me. Love of his what? What the fuck!

The woman’s face twisted in rage.

“You evil bastard!” she screamed.

She snatched my filled glass from the counter, and before either of us could react, she flung its contents right at his face. Liquid splashed everywhere, dripping down his jaw, his neck, his perfect shirt.

“Fuck you both!” she spat, then stormed out, her heels stabbing the floor behind her.

The moment she was gone, I shoved him away from me, breaking free from his grip.

“What the hell was that?” I hissed, breath shaky, heart hammering.

He let out a long, frustrated sigh and pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, beginning to wipe his drenched face.

“I apologize,” he said calmly, like someone who got drinks thrown at him every day. “I needed her away from me. She’s… quite persistent.”

“Persistent?” I repeated sharply. “Are you insane? You just involved me in your drama!”

“She’s the type who never takes no for an answer,” he continued, ignoring my outrage. “My parents want me to marry her, but I don’t want to. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop. I’d rather marry someone else than be tied to her.”

I blinked, my anger turning into pure disbelief.

“I didn’t ask,” I snapped.

He simply let out a soft laugh.

“Anyway,” he said in that calm, controlled tone of his, “I don’t usually apologize, but I’ll apologize again. I’m sorry for everything. And about your drink.” His eyes flicked toward the empty glass. “I’ll take care of that.”

I scoffed quietly, but a thought suddenly hit me so hard it almost made me dizzy.

What if… this man could be my groom?

He clearly didn’t want the woman his parents were forcing on him. He had literally staged a whole scene just to make her leave. That meant he needed a way out just as badly as I did, or maybe even more.

While he settled the bill, my pulse kept hammering faster. It was now or never.

“Can we… have a little talk?” I blurted out before I lost my nerve.

He narrowed his brows slightly. “Go on.”

I realized I had no idea how to begin. My palms felt cold, my throat tight, but I forced myself to breathe in and out.

“We’re… kind of in the same situation,” I finally said. “I need a groom because of something urgent in my life, and you need a bride, right? So I thought…” I swallowed hard. “What if we got married? A contract marriage. Just a few months. We don’t even have to live together if you don’t want to.”

He didn’t say a word. He just stared at me, face unreadable, and for a second I couldn’t tell if he was shocked, confused, or about to laugh.