At 34, I was fed up with my parents’ relentless pressure to settle down. They even threatened to cut me out of their inheritance unless I married by 35. With only a few months left, I was desperate to escape their constant nagging. One day, while walking down the street, I noticed a woman sitting on the corner with a cardboard sign that read, “Need help.” Her eyes were kind, and something about her made me stop. Without thinking, I offered her a deal: I would marry her to get my parents off my back, and in return, she would pretend to be my wife.

Her name was Jessica, and she agreed. I cleaned her up, bought her new clothes, and introduced her to my parents as my fiancée. They were thrilled, and we quickly got married. But a month later, I came home to an unexpected sight: the house was spotless, dinner was ready, and Jessica was smiling as she served me my favorite meal.

She looked at me warmly and said, “I thought you might be hungry.” The woman I had married out of convenience had changed in ways I didn’t expect. She wasn’t just pretending anymore—she had become an active, caring part of my life.

As we ate, she shared her past, handing me a journal filled with her thoughts and dreams. “I never needed to be saved,” she said softly. “I just needed someone to care.” That night, I realized I wasn’t the one helping her. She had saved me in ways I couldn’t have imagined.