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 didn’t lie. It’s just… tonight was different.”

By day, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I asked the question I was afraid to ask:

“Why do you watch me at night?”

He stood by the window. Outside, the trees shook in the wind.

“Because if I don’t,” he said softly, “something very bad can happen.”

My throat tightened.

“To me?”

His answer held more fear than certainty.

“To both of us.”

That night I pretended to sleep—eyes closed, mind wide awake. He didn’t bring the chair. He sat on the floor, right beside the bed, like someone on watch.

I asked quietly, “Are you afraid?”

A long silence.

Then he admitted, “Yes.”

“Of who?”

He didn’t look at me.

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