I agreed to marry a rich elderly man to rescue my family—but on our wedding night, he never laid a hand on me.

I was asleep when I felt someone beside me. Heavy breathing close to my ear. I jolted awake—and there he was, so near I could smell his old cologne. He still wasn’t touching me. He was bent over, eyes fixed on my eyelids like he was counting my breaths.

I whispered, my voice cracked in half:

“What are you doing?”

He flinched as if caught committing a crime and backed away immediately.

“Sorry,” he said. “I woke you up.”

I sat up, the room suddenly colder.

“You said you’d sit in the chair.”

He lowered his eyes.

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