A proposal to a stranger

Chapter 2

"Excuse me," he said, slowly turning to see who had just proposed to him.

My heart skipped a beat—I felt like I was about to collapse.

"I said... will you marry me? I mean, I’ll be your perfect wife, and I don’t mind if you're not faithful. I would just like you to marry me," I said, my eyes fixed on the ground, fully aware of how crazy I sounded. I couldn’t believe those words had actually left my mouth.

He stared at me with a long, awkward look. Then, without saying a word, he opened the door of his car and drove off.

I watched, stunned, as his car disappeared into the distance without stopping. My body was frozen in shock. What had I just done?

Frustrated and embarrassed, I turned around, ready to go back into the bar and drown the shame in tequila. But just as I took my first step, I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey, you. Get in."

I turned quickly, heart thudding. There he was—cold, unreadable—looking straight at me from inside the car.

I hesitated, then slowly walked toward him and got in. I sat silently, humbled, staring down at my legs. I didn’t dare look at his face. That’s when he leaned in, his face suddenly inches from mine.

My breath caught. My heart raced wildly, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. His scent wrapped around me—his expensive cologne, clean and intoxicating. His sea-blue eyes locked on mine, pulling me into some strange, silent current I didn’t want to escape.

He leaned closer. I could feel his breath on my lips and nose. My eyes searched his, wondering what he was thinking. His lips were so close, and for some reason, I wanted him to kiss me—even though I barely knew him.

But he paused. Then, slowly, he pulled back.

"You’re drunk. That explains it," he said, starting the car. "Where do you live? I’ll take you home."

"No, please wait—I’m not drunk," I said, the words pouring out of me. "I meant what I said. I overheard your phone call earlier, and I could tell... like me, you’re looking for someone to marry."

He glanced at me, unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might kick me out of the car.

"Where do you live?" he asked again, more firmly this time. His voice sent a chill down my spine.

I hesitated, startled by how serious he sounded, then gave him my address.

The car ride was quiet. I was drowning in my thoughts—thinking about how desperate I must have sounded, how foolish I probably looked, and how I had most likely just ruined any chance of making Grandpa’s last wish come true.

We arrived at my apartment, but I barely noticed until he spoke again.

"Is this the place?" he asked.

"Yes," I whispered, unsure of what to do next. I swallowed hard, gathering the courage to speak.

"Please... you have to believe me. I meant what I said."

He looked at me for a moment longer, then spoke.

"You’re right. I do need a wife. And I need one who understands I don’t love her—and won’t lie to her about it."

I blinked, stunned.

"I assume you’re drunk because no normal person asks a complete stranger to marry them without expecting something in return. But if you’re really serious..." he paused, eyeing me. "Then I’ll pick you up by 12 tomorrow. Okay?"

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stared at him, unsure if he was mocking me or being completely serious.

"Okay," I whispered.

I stepped out of the car slowly, still dazed. I watched as he drove away and stood outside for a while, trying to process what had just happened.

Did that really just happen?