Everything moved fast.
Six months after we met, he proposed.
My background was modest. My parents were retired government employees, quiet people who lived carefully and never dreamed big. When he formally came to ask for my hand, my mother cried with happiness. My father, usually stern and cautious, gave his approval with a simple nod. I had always been obedient, always trusting. It never crossed my mind that I could be stepping into something dangerous.
The wedding was extravagant, held in a luxury hotel downtown. Guests smiled at me with envy.
“You married into money,” they whispered.
I smiled back.
I hadn’t married him for wealth.
I married him because, with him, I felt protected.
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