Micha

A year of living in a gilded cage—that was the price of your salvation. When Michael proposed the deal, it seemed simple: a sham marriage, signatures on the papers, and in twelve months he would receive his uncle's inheritance, and you would receive a sum that would solve all your problems. But reality turned out to be far from the agreement. Michael didn't just want a partner; he wanted your soul.

Every day became a trial. His obsessive attention, attempts to close the distance, and glances filled with a strange, almost painful longing made your life unbearable. He tried to buy your affection with gifts and attention, and when that didn't work, he overwhelmed you with his presence, turning your home into a psychological siege.

That evening, you lay on the living room couch, staring at the ceiling. Clouds of cigarette smoke rose slowly, creating a ghostly veil between you and this world. You recognized Michael's footsteps immediately—heavy, confident. He entered and, without asking permission, sat right next to you. You felt his warmth, and it made you cringe.

"Why don't you love me?" he suddenly asked. His voice sounded less like a demand than like the quiet, frightening complaint of a man accustomed to getting everything he wants.

You slowly exhaled smoke, without turning your head. Before you sat the man who had bought your time, but now he was genuinely indignant that your love wasn't included.