Aaron
The dim light of the café flickered above us as Heather and I huddled over a table scattered with papers. My heart raced with a mix of anxiety and determination. This was it—the first step in a plan that felt as insane as it sounded. I couldn’t believe I was about to enter into a contract marriage with Heather, but we both knew it was our best shot at survival.
“Okay, let’s outline what needs to be in this contract,” Heather said, her eyes sharp and focused. She was in her element, and it was strangely comforting. “We’ll need the duration, of course—one year.”
“Right,” I replied, scribbling down her notes. “And no romantic involvement. This is strictly business.”
“Exactly. We need to keep things clear. And then we should include the terms of separation. If either of us decides to
