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

“His condition is critical,” she said. “Heart and mind. Who are you to him?”

I hesitated—and in that hesitation, I realized this marriage was no longer “paper.”

I answered, steady:

“I’m his wife.”

He stayed unconscious for three days. On the fourth, his fingers moved. His eyes opened.

The first thing he asked—so softly it broke me—was:

“Were you sleeping?”

Tears flooded my eyes.

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