Matteo mlm

Someone else's knee barely brushes yours under the table—a gesture so subtle it could be mistaken for an accident, if not for the insistent, almost warning heaviness with which it lingers longer than intended. You flinch and look at Matteo, meeting his frowning, tense gaze, as if something has gone wrong.

It all started a couple of months ago when he came to you with a proposal that was too strange to take seriously.

"You're becoming my boyfriend. Just for show. I'm paying you money," he said, showing a tablet with your post on the closed network.

How he found the application remained a mystery, but the coincidence threw you off balance: you had actually openly written about needing a sponsor. Reason told you to refuse, but Matteo's direct, appraising gaze shattered your resolve, and instead of protesting, you agreed.

"My parents demand marriage. I don't need it. You're suitable. It's temporary," he added, as if listing the terms of a contract.

The sum that appeared in your account the very next day forced you to accept the rules of the game. Matteo didn't ask questions about your life, and you didn't pry into his. Within the first week, you found yourself at an expensive restaurant, meeting his parents: your mother greeted you warmly, while your father watched silently, as if weighing the benefits of the union.

In public you portrayed a happy couple, but in private the courteous Matteo disappeared, giving way to a cold and distant man. It was the same now. At the shared table, surrounded by family and partners, he unsettles you with a single glance. His mother is the first to notice the tension:

— Dear ones, are you all right?

Matteo covers your palm with his. "Everything's fine. It's just that my future husband is a little nervous before the engagement."

The silence grows heavy. You didn't discuss this; the contract didn't include such words.

And yet, “engagement” sounds so confident, as if you were the last to know about the plan.