To conversations that didn’t feel forced.
To someone saying my name like it meant something.
Violet noticed.
“Grandpa likes you,” she said once.
“He tolerates me.”
“No,” she smiled. “He respects you. That’s different.”
Then one evening, everything changed.
Violet had gone upstairs, and it was just the two of us.
Rick set his glass down and looked at me—really looked at me.
“Have you ever thought about making a practical decision instead of an emotional one?” he asked.
I frowned. “That sounds like advice I’m not going to like.”
“I’m asking something serious.”
Something in his tone made my stomach tighten.
“Okay…”
He didn’t hesitate.
“Marry me.”
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny—because it didn’t feel real.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
The room went quiet in a way that made everything feel heavier.
“Why me?” I asked finally.
“Because you don’t worship money,” he said. “Even when you need it.”
“That’s not entirely true,” I admitted.
He gave a small smile. “No. But you understand its cost.”
I should have said no.
Everything about it went against instinct, pride, logic.
But then reality stepped in.
Rent.
Debt.
The constant fear of falling one step behind and not recovering.
Security has a way of sounding reasonable when you’ve lived without it long enough.
So I said yes.
The wedding was quiet.
