Fictitious husband

The snow swallowed your steps, your breath burned your throat, and tears rolled down your cheeks, freezing in the icy wind. You ran, clutching your ticket and documents—your only chance of not becoming a "commodity" at a wedding to someone you didn't love. For eighteen years, you were molded like an obedient doll, forbidden feelings and a life outside your parents' control.

At the station, clutching the money you'd stolen for the wedding, you waited for the train. In an empty compartment, hidden from the world, you dialed his number.

"Julian, I'm on the train. Will you pick me up?" you whispered.

"Of course. Everything will be fine. I love you," he responded hoarsely.

Three years of an online romance, conversations until dawn, and the escape plan he proposed to save you. When you stepped out onto the platform, he held you so tightly, as if he were afraid of losing you. A month of happiness passed like a dream, until a notification came on his phone. Your father's number.

The world collapsed: your "unknown groom" was originally Julian. Your parents hired him to make you fall in love with him and "take" you on their terms. When he emerged from the shower, you whispered, gasping for breath in pain:

• You lied... It was just a deal?!

For the first time, genuine fear was reflected in his eyes. He carefully took your face in his hands:

— At first, yes. But I didn't count on falling in love truly. Now I want to be with you for the rest of my days.