The Proposal
Half an hour later, they stood in his penthouse — glass, light, luxury everywhere.
She looked small in her janitor’s uniform, standing on marble floors worth more than she’d earn in a decade.
“Lena,” he said quietly, “marry me.”
She blinked. “You’re drunk.”
“I’ve never been more sober. I lost someone who didn’t matter, and found someone who does.
Here’s my offer — marry me, and I’ll pay for your surgery in Germany. You’ll have a home, stability, a new start.
No pressure. No expectations. This isn’t romance — it’s rescue. For both of us.”
She began to cry, shaking her head. “This is insane.”
But his eyes were kind, unwavering — and she was too tired to resist.
“I… I’ll do it,” she whispered.
That night changed both their lives.
