My parents never let me forget that I was unmarried and thirty-four years old. They set me up with every decent person they knew so that I would get married and start a family. But that was only one side of the story. In the end, they told me that if I didn’t get married by the age of thirty-five, I wouldn’t get any money. I could lose it, because there were only a few months left before I reached my goal.
One day, after another argument with my family, I went for a walk to cool off. I was so upset that I didn’t pay attention to where I was going until I bumped into a woman sitting on the pavement. Her hair and clothes were a mess, and she had a wooden sign hanging over her shoulder that said ‘Need help’. But her gaze drew me in and made me stop and pay attention; it was kind, compassionate, and reassuring. At that moment, an idea came to me that almost felt like a necessity. I approached her and, without thinking, made her an offer.
If she married me, I promised her food, a safe place to live, and some basic luxuries, as well as peace of mind from my parents no longer pursuing me. Other than presenting herself as my wife, she would not have to do anything while living with me. I was stunned when she said yes. Jessica, the woman, had achieved her goal.
After cutting and styling her hair, I accompanied Jessica to the shops. She had changed dramatically in just a few days, and I told her parents that she had become my fiancée. They were practically ecstatic, truly happy. They felt that the future they had dreamed of had finally come true. After a small ceremony, we were officially married.
Then we settled into a routine. I didn’t notice Jessica loitering around the house these days. We both agreed that this arrangement was purely pragmatic, so all I wanted to do was maintain appearances for the sake of my ancestors.
A month after the wedding, I returned home and experienced the most shocking event of my life.
That evening, as I walked through the door, I assumed Jessica would be doing nothing. However, what I saw stunned me. The house looked better than I had ever seen it. The air smelled of freshly cooked food, the furniture had been dusted, and the floors had been washed until they shone. There were even flower arrangements in the middle of the dining table.
When I entered the living room, Jessica was there. She was smiling and setting down a tray of food. ‘I thought you might be hungry, so I made your favourite dish,’ she said. When I first met her, her voice had been harsh and weary, but now it was gentle and polite.
Stammering, I stood still. A month earlier, I had encountered a destitute and homeless woman. It wasn’t her. Her mannerisms and appearance had also changed. I didn’t know what to say; she seemed to radiate love and kindness.
While we were eating, Jessica told us the truth about her life story. ‘I’ve had a difficult life,’ she said first, her voice calm but firm. ‘I knew I deserved better, even though I made many wrong decisions that led me to the streets.’ Everyone I asked simply believed in me and accepted me for who I am.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I had never considered Jessica to be a person with ambitions, dreams, or emotions, as I was furious with her parents. Rather, I argued, using her as a pawn to prove my point. But when she spoke, I began to realise how badly I had misjudged her. She was trying to make our home cosy and welcoming, not just playing the role of a decent wife.
Then Jessica took a small gift wrapped in cotton out of her bag, just when I thought everything was safe. She silently handed it to me, and when I opened it, I found a diary — a worn notebook filled with her thoughts, dreams, and reflections. As I leafed through the pages, I learned about her struggles, her willpower, and her unwavering hope for a better future.
Reading her poems, I cried. She never gave up in the face of everything that had happened. I realised that I had overlooked her beauty, strength and friendliness. And here I was, a man who thought he was being courteous by proposing a hasty marriage. By that time, Jessica had become more than just someone I married out of anger. She had unknowingly brought love and brightness into my life. It was truly amazing.
Her comment, ‘I never needed saving,’ made me completely rethink the situation. I wanted someone to care only about me. Her comments really hurt me and made me question what I knew about marriage and myself. I married Jessica because I needed to feel loved and supported; my parents pushed me into it. Yet here I was, faced with someone who genuinely empathised with me while trying to get her point across.
I never thought I would do this, but the next day I mustered up the courage and told my parents the truth. I made it clear that their marriage had become much more than a pragmatic means of ensuring their happiness. Jessica had improved my life; I didn’t want to let her go because she was more than just a means of existence for me.
After that day, Jessica began to seem to me as something more than just a woman I had married for pragmatic reasons. She was a friend, a colleague, and a person who taught me lessons in kindness and perseverance. Our marriage was no longer a means of transportation to another place. Finally, my parents understood that love is not always a formula or a calendar.
Jessica and I built a life together marked by respect, compassion, and a deep understanding of each other’s experiences. Jessica was not just a woman I married to get what I wanted, but she finally became the one who taught me the true meaning of acceptance and love.
