I married a homeless man to spite my parents. A month later, I walked into my house and froze—nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
My name is Miley, and at 34, I was tired of my parents’ constant nagging about marriage. Every conversation was the same: “When will you settle down?” “Don’t you want kids?”
Then came the ultimatum: marry by 35, or lose my inheritance.
I was livid. So, in a moment of rebellion, I did something drastic.
I met Stan on the street—a homeless man with tired eyes and a quiet dignity. On a whim, I asked, “Want to get married?”
He laughed. “You serious?”
“Dead serious.”
And just like that, we had a deal.
I cleaned him up, bought him clothes, and introduced him to my parents as my fiancé. Their shock was priceless.
A month later, we were married—strictly a business arrangement. Or so I thought.
Living with Stan was… nice. He was funny, kind, and surprisingly good company. But he never talked about his past, and that mystery gnawed at me.
Then, one night, I came home to a scene straight out of a romance movie—rose petals leading to the living room, where Stan stood in a designer tuxedo, holding a diamond ring.
“Miley,” he said, “I want to marry you for real.”
I was speechless.
Stan wasn’t just some homeless man. He was a wealthy businessman betrayed by his own family. Left with nothing, he’d been stranded on the streets—until I gave him a chance.
With my help, he’d regained his fortune. But more than that, he’d fallen in love—with me.
Tears welled in my eyes. I had married him out of spite, but somewhere along the way, we’d found something real.
Now, as I slip on his ring, I realize: sometimes, the best love stories begin with the most unexpected twists.
