my younger fake husband

chapter 5

Three days passed, and I remained buried in my bed. I barely moved. I didn’t eat. I didn’t even think.

My body was still in that room, but my soul... my soul was somewhere else.

Maybe it was in that little shop they had stolen from me.

Or perhaps it was still trapped in the wedding day that never happened.

Or maybe it had simply died without me noticing.

Sarah came to my apartment countless times. Every morning, she brought me food, opened the curtains, and talked to me about things I couldn’t remember.

I heard her voice as if it were coming from underwater... distant, blurred, impossible to understand.

On the fourth day, she stood at the foot of my bed, her arms crossed and a firm look in her eyes that I had never seen before.

"Enough."

I didn’t move.

"Laila, get up."

"I can't."

My voice was hoarse, strange, as if it didn’t belong to me.

Sarah sat on the edge of the bed and held my hand tightly.

"Listen to me. I know you're broken. I know the world has treated you unfairly. But if you stay in this bed for another day, I swear I'll drag you to the bathroom myself."

I slowly looked at her.

Her eyes were filled with tears despite everything.

Sarah... my only friend.

How many times had she saved me without even realizing it?

"Help me," I whispered in a broken voice.

She pulled me into a tight embrace.

"That's why I'm here."

───

A week later, I was sitting in a small café with Sarah.

It was the first time I had left the apartment since that day.

The outside world was loud and annoying, but it was... real.

"I have someone I want you to meet," Sarah suddenly said.

Her cheeks turned slightly red.

I looked at her curiously.

Sarah had never been shy about anything. She was the bold girl who laughed in the face of the world.

But now she was stammering, playing with her coffee cup, and glancing at the door every few seconds.

"Who is he?" I asked.

"His name is Adam."

"And..."

She took a deep breath.

"Do you remember when I was in school and I had a crush on that boy from the grade above us? The one I confessed my feelings to in front of everyone..."

"The one who rejected you and laughed about you with his friends?" I interrupted angrily, remembering the old incident.

"Yes. Him."

"Sarah! Why are you seeing him?"

She calmly raised her hand.

"Listen to me. I met him at a student reunion. We were reminiscing about our school days, and we talked about... well, not everything. I found out that he's single, and he's become even more handsome than before."

"And now what?"

"Now he's a lawyer. A successful lawyer. And he offered to help with the workshop case."

I fell silent.

I didn’t know what to say.

Part of me was angry on her behalf, while another part... felt a tiny spark of hope.

Adam entered the café.

He was tall, wearing a dark blue suit and elegant glasses. He looked at Sarah first and gave her a small, shy smile.

Then he turned to me respectfully.

"You're Laila. Sarah has told me a lot about you."

I shook his hand cautiously.

We sat together, and he began explaining the legal situation.

He spoke calmly and confidently, as if every problem had a solution.

"The amount you have to pay back is large, but it's not impossible. You have five months. Most importantly... you need to find the fake contract and the person who forged it. If we find the person who sold you the workshop using a fraudulent contract, we can file a case against him and recover your money."

"But I don't know who he is."

"We'll investigate quietly. Don't give up."

I looked at Sarah.

She was staring at Adam with obvious admiration.

I reached under the table, grabbed her hand, and squeezed it lightly.

She was practically devouring him with her eyes.

───

And that was how my new life began.

In the morning, I worked at a small grocery store.

In the afternoon, I moved to a fish shop, where the smell of the sea clung to my clothes and never seemed to leave.

And at night...

At night, I returned to the one thing I truly knew how to do.

I sat in the corner of a small workshop and finished the dresses I sold for fashion shows.

My hands moved quickly and precisely, as if the needle was the only thing in this life I truly understood.

I returned to my apartment late at night, my body exhausted and my feet aching.

But I didn’t cry.

I could no longer afford the luxury of crying.

There was a certain amount of money I had to collect within five months.

───

I hadn’t seen him since that day.

A whole week passed without a single sign of Kain.

No knocking on my door.

No unexpected appearances at the café.

Not even that irritating smile I had grown to hate.

At first, I felt relieved.

I told myself,

"Finally. That i***t understood the message."

But as the days passed... something strange began to happen.

I found myself looking toward the staircase leading to his apartment.

I would linger outside my door for a little longer, wondering if he would appear.

I listened for footsteps in the hallway.

"This is better," I whispered to myself every night as I took off my exhausted feet.

"This is better. I don't need an annoying kid in my life."

But the words felt hollow.

I was lying to myself.

And I knew it.

───

One evening, I was returning from my job at the fish shop.

The smell of the sea covered me completely, and my face was pale from exhaustion.

I entered the café near my home to buy a quick cup of coffee.

And there he was.

Kain.

He was sitting in the corner with a group of his friends, laughing and talking loudly.

He was wearing a black shirt, his hair falling loosely over his forehead in a way that...

No.

I shouldn't be thinking about that.

I stopped where I was.

I waited for him to notice me.

To wave.

To say something stupid like he always did.

But he didn't.

He looked at me.

I saw him clearly.

But he quickly looked away, as if I didn't exist.

As if I were just a stranger on the street.

I felt something sharp in my chest.

Something I wasn't prepared for.

"Laila, don't do this."

I whispered to myself as I held my coffee cup and quickly left.

"He doesn't know you. You don't know him. This is better. This is better."

I repeated those words several times on my way home.

But the coffee tasted bitter that night.

───

Inside the café, Kain's friends were talking about something he wasn't interested in.

He drank his coffee silently, his eyes occasionally moving toward the door I had just walked through.

"Who was that?" one of his friends asked.

"Who?"

Kain pretended not to understand.

"That girl who was standing by the door. The one with black hair."

"I don't know her."

"Strange. Because you looked at her like you'd seen a ghost."

Kain took another sip of his coffee.

"I don't know her," he repeated coldly.

After that day, I started seeing him sometimes.

At the café.

On the street.

At the entrance of the building.

He walked with his friends, laughing and living his life as if nothing had happened.

I pretended not to see him either.

I would walk past him as if he didn't exist, biting my lip tightly.

But at night, lying in my cold bed, I would think:

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Did I hurt him when I kicked him out of the workshop?"

"Or did he simply... lose interest?"

Why did I even care?

He was just a kid.

A young man.

I shouldn't give him any attention.

But the question that truly haunted me was:

Why had he offered to marry me in the first place?

Was he joking?

Did he really want to help me?

Or was this all part of some bigger game?

───

Several more days passed.

Then something happened that I never expected.

I was returning to the building that evening when I heard a loud thud coming from the staircase.

I quickened my pace.

My heart began pounding.

I didn't know why, but I suddenly felt that something terrible had happened.

And there, at the bottom of the stairs, was Kain.

He was lying on the floor.

His face was extremely pale, his forehead covered in sweat, and his eyes were closed.

He was breathing heavily and trembling despite the fact that the weather wasn't cold.

"Kain!"

I shouted as I knelt beside him.

I touched his forehead.

He was burning up.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me.

He tried to smile, but the smile disappeared before it could fully form.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..."

"Shut up."

My voice was sharp, hiding the fear inside me.

"I'm taking you to your apartment."

"No... there's no need..."

"Shut up, I said!"

I helped him stand.

He was heavy and exhausted, leaning almost entirely on me.

We climbed the stairs together, one step at a time, until we reached his apartment.

I helped him onto the sofa.

I brought him water, medicine, and cold compresses.

I stayed beside him all night, watching his temperature, wiping his forehead, and making sure he was okay.

At some point, just before dawn, he opened his eyes.

His fever had gone down slightly, but he was still weak.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Because you're an i***t. And idiots need someone to take care of them."

He let out a weak laugh, then fell silent.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while.

"Why did you ignore me?"

He stared at the ceiling.

"Because I thought you didn't want to see me. After you kicked me out... I felt like I was nothing but a nuisance to you."

I said nothing.

There was genuine pain in his voice.

Pain I hadn't expected from him.

"I only wanted to help you," he continued. "In my own way."

"By marrying me?"

"Seriously... my grandfather left me without any money. He said I was reckless and irresponsible. But he made me a promise. If I got married and proved that I had matured, I would receive my inheritance."

He paused.

"I thought... if I married you, I could help you with the money, and at the same time prove to my grandfather that I had changed."

"A fake marriage, then."

"Yes. A fake marriage. It would benefit both of us."

I stared at him for a long moment.

He looked different at that moment.

Weak.

Honest.

He wasn't the irritating young man I had grown used to seeing.

He was different.

"Why me?" I finally asked.

"Why don't you marry a girl your own age? There are plenty of them."

He was silent for a moment.

Then he said quietly,

"Because they... fall in love with me."

"What?"

"The girls I date. They fall in love with me. Then it becomes very difficult... to break things off with them. Their hearts get broken, and I don't want to break anyone's heart."

His words were simple, but they carried an unexpected sincerity.

"But you're different," he continued.

"You hate me."

"I don't hate you," I said quickly.

Then I stopped.

Surprised by my own words.

He looked at me.

His eyes seemed to be pleading.

"Think about it. Just... think about it. Please."

I didn't answer.

I remained silent, staring at his pale face, his trembling hands, and the weakness I had never seen in him before.

The sun was slowly rising outside the window.

To be continued...