I had reached my breaking point. Every holiday, it was the same thing\u2014my family turning the dinner table into an interrogation room about my love life.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen are you getting married?\u201d
\n\u201cHave you met anyone yet?\u201d<\/p>\n
My mom\u2019s probing looks, my dad\u2019s hopeful smile\u2014it was like a broken record. And honestly, I couldn\u2019t handle another round.<\/p>\n
So, sitting in my car by the park that cold afternoon, dreading the upcoming holiday weekend, an idea\u2014crazy, ridiculous, but genius\u2014popped into my head.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when I saw him.<\/p>\n
A man sat slumped on a bench near the entrance, wrapped in a worn, frayed coat that looked like it had been through decades of winters. His face was lined and tired, eyes distant, but\u2026 there was something about him. He still had a quiet handsomeness, like life had tried to break him but hadn\u2019t fully succeeded.<\/p>\n
And suddenly, the idea crystallized.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if\u2026\u201d I whispered to myself, \u201c\u2026he could be my fianc\u00e9? Just for the weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was insane. Absolutely insane. But it could work. Anything to shut down my family\u2019s endless questions.<\/p>\n
I got out of the car, my heart pounding as I walked over. He looked up, his gaze meeting mine in a silent, guarded question.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi,\u201d I began, feeling like a lunatic. \u201cI know this is going to sound\u2026 strange, but\u2026 would you be willing to pretend to be my fianc\u00e9? Just for a weekend. In exchange, I\u2019ll give you a warm place to stay, new clothes, and a good meal.\u201d<\/p>\n
He studied me for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if this was a joke. Then, to my shock, he simply nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n
No questions. No hesitation. That was almost more unnerving than a refusal\u2014but I was in too deep to back out.<\/p>\n
\u201cGreat,\u201d I said, forcing a smile. \u201cLet\u2019s get you ready for the weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n
Back at my apartment, I handed him some clothes left behind by my ex.<\/p>\n
\u201cThese should fit,\u201d I said, passing him a clean shirt and jeans. \u201cYou can take a shower. I\u2019ll start dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled faintly. \u201cA shower sounds amazing.\u201d<\/p>\n
As he disappeared into the bathroom, I stood at the counter chopping vegetables, asking myself for the hundredth time, Mia, what are you doing? You don\u2019t even know his name.<\/p>\n
The bathroom door creaked open, and I turned. My jaw nearly dropped. His damp hair clung to his forehead, his face scrubbed clean, his posture somehow straighter.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s the best shower I\u2019ve had in years,\u201d he joked, his voice lighter than before.<\/p>\n
I laughed. \u201cGlad to hear it. I hope dinner will be just as good.\u201d<\/p>\n
We sat down, and as he took his first bite, he sighed. \u201cPerfect. Haven\u2019t had a home-cooked meal in a long time. I\u2019m Christopher, by the way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMia,\u201d I replied.<\/p>\n
Soon, the conversation flowed easily. He liked old western movies and The Old Man and the Sea. He had a dry sense of humor that caught me off guard. I found myself laughing more than I had in months.<\/p>\n
Later, I went for a glass of water and froze. The dishes were washed and neatly stacked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou did the dishes?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cSeemed like the least I could do.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was such a small thing, but it hit me harder than I expected.<\/p>\n
The next day, I took him to a salon. The stylist trimmed away the overgrown hair, revealing sharp cheekbones and kind eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis feels weird,\u201d he muttered, glancing at the mirror.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood weird or bad weird?\u201d I teased.<\/p>\n
\u201cDefinitely good,\u201d he smirked.<\/p>\n
We bought him a new shirt, blazer, and polished shoes. By the time we were done, he looked like a man who could walk into any room and turn heads.<\/p>\n
Holiday dinner began better than I dared hope. My mother\u2019s eyes lit up at the sight of him. Christopher was perfect\u2014polite, attentive, charming. I relaxed, thinking my plan had worked.<\/p>\n
Then it happened.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou look so familiar,\u201d Mom said, squinting at him. \u201cHave we met before? Or maybe I saw you on TV?\u201d<\/p>\n
Christopher smiled politely. \u201cNo, I don\u2019t think so. Just one of those faces.\u201d<\/p>\n
She laughed, but there was something in her eyes. \u201cWhat did you do before you met Mia? Business?\u201d<\/p>\n
Christopher hesitated. \u201cYes. Business. But everything changed about five years ago. There was\u2026 a car accident.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom\u2019s face drained of color. Her grip on the tablecloth tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cA car accident?\u201d she repeated, her voice flat.<\/p>\n
Christopher nodded slowly.<\/p>\n
Mom\u2019s tone sharpened. \u201cNot everyone walks away from accidents unscathed, do they?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her, confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s not the kind of man you need,\u201d she said suddenly, her voice trembling.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom!\u201d I protested, but Christopher quietly excused himself and stepped outside.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when my mother told me the truth.<\/p>\n
Five years ago, she was in a late-night crash outside the city. No witnesses. She claimed the man she hit\u2014Christopher\u2014was under the influence. He refused testing. She hadn\u2019t taken him to court, but the bitterness in her voice was sharp.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s dangerous, Mia. You can\u2019t trust him.\u201d<\/p>\n
I went outside. Christopher was leaning on the fence, staring into the dark.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy last name is Hartman,\u201d he said quietly before I could speak. \u201cYes, I was in that accident. I was on sedatives for anxiety after my wife died. I was careful. But\u2026 I guess life had other plans.\u201d<\/p>\n
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small gold ring.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis was my wife\u2019s. You\u2019re the first person I\u2019ve wanted to give it to. Thank you for dinner, Mia. It meant more than you know.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pressed the ring into my palm and walked away.<\/p>\n
Days later, I couldn\u2019t get him out of my mind. My mother finally admitted she\u2019d been speeding that night. She\u2019d been scared\u2014and she had taken money meant for him.<\/p>\n
I placed an ad in the local paper:<\/p>\n
\u201cChristopher Hartman, if you see this, meet me at the restaurant where we last had dinner. I\u2019m there every evening. \u2014Mia\u201d<\/p>\n
The very next night, he walked in.<\/p>\n
\u201cI saw your ad,\u201d he said, sliding into the seat across from me.<\/p>\n
I told him everything\u2014about my mother\u2019s admission, the money, how I believed him.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe wants to make it right,\u201d I said softly. \u201cAnd\u2026 I want you in my life. For real this time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Christopher\u2019s eyes softened. \u201cI didn\u2019t think I\u2019d care for anyone again. But you\u2026 you changed that.\u201d<\/p>\n
We sat there, hands touching on the table, no pretenses left. By the end of the night, I knew\u2014this wasn\u2019t my fake fianc\u00e9 anymore. This was the man I was falling for.<\/p>\n
And from the way he looked at me, he felt the same.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I had reached my breaking point. Every holiday, it was the same thing\u2014my family turning the dinner table into an interrogation room about my love life. \u201cWhen are you getting married?\u201d \u201cHave you met anyone yet?\u201d My mom\u2019s probing looks, my dad\u2019s hopeful smile\u2014it was like a broken record. And honestly, I couldn\u2019t handle another […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-37768","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37768","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=37768"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37768\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":37769,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37768\/revisions\/37769"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=37768"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=37768"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=37768"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}