“All right,” he said quietly. “If it gets you out of this mess. Just know, I’m not one to back out once I’m in something.”
Relief rushed through me.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you, Ethan.”
He smiled knowingly.
“Guess I’ve always been a little crazy. But this—this might just take the cake.”
That afternoon, we went directly to city hall.
No wedding dress.
No flowers.
Just paperwork and two strangers signing their names.
When we stepped outside, Ethan grinned.
“Well, looks like we’re in this together now.”
Only then did the reality sink in.
I had just married someone I had met that same day.
The days that followed passed in a blur. Ethan and I settled into an unusual routine that somehow became comforting.
His life was simple and unhurried. He taught me things I had never bothered learning—how to cook breakfast without relying on anyone else, how to shop carefully, how to stretch a grocery budget.
When my father discovered I had married, he exploded.
He called every hour, leaving short messages filled with icy anger. After several days of ignoring him, I finally answered.
“What is going on, Anna?” he demanded. “You married someone—a stranger! A janitor! Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s my life, Dad,” I replied, unable to keep my voice from shaking.
“You have responsibilities, Anna. Do you think the world is going to respect this… this nonsense? I’ll come by tomorrow. I want to meet this husband of yours.”
“Fine, Dad,” I answered, a chill running through me. I knew avoiding him forever was impossible.
The following evening, my father arrived at our modest apartment wearing another expensive designer suit. His eyes swept over the mismatched furniture and simple décor with obvious disgust.
“Anna, are you really staying here?” he asked.
“This is our home,” I answered, folding my arms while sensing Ethan standing quietly behind me.
Then my father faced Ethan.
“So, you’re the man who married my daughter,” he said with open contempt. “Do you know who she is? Do you have any idea what she’s worth?”
Ethan met his eyes without hesitation.
“Yes, sir, I do,” he replied calmly. “I know she’s more than her last name, or the money attached to it.”
My father let out a mocking laugh.
“Oh, I see. You’ve got all the right lines. It’s clear you’re not in this for love, but for what you can gain.”
“Actually, sir,” Ethan answered steadily, “I don’t care about your money. Or your status. I care about Anna.”
My father’s face flushed.
“You expect me to believe that?” he snapped. “You’re just a janitor—a nobody.”
Ethan remained perfectly composed.
“I may be a janitor,” he replied, “but I know honesty. And respect. I know that Anna deserves more than being treated like a pawn.”
Anger mixed with confusion crossed my father’s face.
“And what gives you the right to lecture me about respect?”
Ethan drew a slow breath.
“My last name doesn’t mean anything to you, does it? What if I told you my father’s name was Andrew?” he asked quietly.
My father frowned.
“Andrew?”
“You knew him once,” Ethan continued. “He was a business partner of yours until you forced him out. Took everything he had. He went from owning a company to scrubbing floors. And that’s how I grew up.”
The shock spread through the room as my father’s face lost its color.
“That can’t be… that was years ago,” he stammered. “You’re his son?”
Ethan nodded.
“He never recovered. But he raised me to be better than bitterness. And here I am.”
My father looked away, his shoulders suddenly heavy.
Then, to my complete surprise, he dropped to his knees.
“Andrew… he was my friend. I was desperate. It was either him or me, and I had a family. I was doing what I thought I had to. I’m sorry.”
Silence lingered between us.
