Ruth

I turned my gaze towards him, uncertainty flickering in my eyes as I posed the next question. "When do you want me to be here?" It was a familiar routine we had established, a dance we had performed before.

I knew the drill—I would accompany him to his parent's house, playing the role of his wife, and then we would return to our separate lives, resuming the pretense that had become our reality.

But the question remained: why had he gone to the trouble of tracking me down just to convey this information? There was an undercurrent of curiosity, a need to understand the motivation behind his actions.

I found myself searching his expression for any hint of a hidden agenda, for a glimpse of the man who had thrown me off balance earlier.

"They are not just visiting," he stated, and his words hung in the air, causing me to pause. A sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach as I absorbed his revelation.

"They are moving to this city. My father wants to stay closer to me."

The gravity of his words hit me with the force of a sudden storm. His father's health concerns were understandable, and I could empathize with his desire to be there for his family. But the implications of their move were not lost on me.

My mind raced as I considered the ramifications. Up until now, the distance between us and his family had been a buffer—a shield that had allowed our charade to persist.

The occasional visits, the pretense of a happy couple, had been manageable precisely because we were able to keep them at arm's length. If they were to move to the same city, our carefully constructed facade could crumble under the weight of their scrutiny.

"What?" I managed to voice my thoughts aloud, a mixture of concern and trepidation coloring my words. His father's need for care and support was clear, but the consequences of their proximity could be dire for us.

His parents' presence in the city would inevitably raise questions, ignite suspicions. Our sham marriage, the carefully maintained illusion, would be at risk of unraveling.

The complications that had once been distant possibilities were now looming threats and the drama of our lives was becoming increasingly convoluted.

"What do we do now?" I couldn't help but voice the question that had been swirling in my mind, my anxiety evident in the way I bit down on my lip.

His response took me by surprise, my eyes widening as he spoke. "Move in with me," he said, the words hanging in the air like a heavy curtain.

My heart raced at his proposal, my mind immediately recoiling at the thought. The implications of his suggestion were enormous, and my thoughts raced as I tried to process the enormity of what he was suggesting.

The prospect of moving in with him was a daunting one, fraught with complexities and uncertainties. How could I possibly share a living space with him?

He was, after all, a stranger—a person I had entered into a sham marriage with for the sake of convenience. The walls I had carefully built around myself, the facade I had crafted, would be even harder to maintain in such close proximity.

"You do know that our contract is about to end this month," I reminded him, a note of urgency lacing my words.

He met my gaze with a determination that caught me off guard. "My father is more important than the contract. I am willing to revise it."

His words hung in the air, a testament to the gravity of the situation. His father's health took precedence over the terms of our arrangement, and his willingness to reconsider our contract was a clear indicator of his dedication to his family.

The weight of his proposal settled over me, and I couldn't help but lean forward, resting on my hands as I regarded him intently. "Why should I revise it?" I questioned, my voice holding a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

His response was immediate, and his offer took me by surprise. "I will double the money."

I resisted the urge to scoff at his words, a mixture of incredulity and irritation bubbling within me.

"Do you think that's enough for me to move in with a complete stranger?" The notion seemed absurd to me, and the thought of exchanging my independence for financial gain was something I found deeply unsettling.

Money had never been a driving force for me. I had built a life of my own, forging a path that was uniquely mine.

The idea of disrupting that for the sake of financial compensation felt foreign and disconcerting. The walls I had carefully erected around myself were not easily dismantled by monetary offers.

"no."