If I had known that tonight would shatter everything I thought I knew, I wouldn't have worn such cheap heels.
I was standing in front of Jian's apartment—our apartment—with a paper bag in one hand and a tiny cake box in the other. It was raining, of course. Shanghai had a flair for the dramatic when it came to heartbreak, apparently.
Today was our third anniversary. Three years of late-night ramen, whispered promises, and shared dreams. Three years wasted.
I balanced the cake against my hip and fumbled for my keys with the bag crinkling under my arm. I was exhausted from working a double shift at the café, but I had scraped together enough for takeout from his favorite restaurant and a little strawberry mousse cake from the bakery near the subway station. The kind he always said reminded him of the first time we met.
Stupid, right?
The door wasn't locked that should've been the first warning.
As soon as I stepped in, I knew something was wrong. There were voices, laughter. A woman's voice.
Minxi.
Her laugh had always gotten under my skin, but I never had a reason to hate it until tonight.
I didn't even have time to drop the food before I walked down the hallway and stopped outside the bedroom. My bedroom.
The door was half open.
I pushed it gently, not sure why I was hoping for anything else.
Jian was in bed shirtless, flushed and definitely not alone.
Minxi's lipstick was smeared with her hands on his chest. They froze like two deer caught in headlights when they saw me.
The cake box slipped from my fingers and hit the ground with a pathetic thud.
No one said anything.
The silence buzzed louder than any scream ever could.
"Xue—this isn't—" Jian started, stammering like a schoolboy caught cheating on a test.
Minxi smirked. She didn't even try to cover herself.
I stepped back. Once. Twice. Then turned around and walked out. I didn't slam the door, I didn't throw anything. That would've meant I still had energy to fight.
I was hollow. I didn't know where I was walking until I ended up at a rooftop bar ten blocks away. It was fancy, the kind of place Jian always said was for "wannabe elites." I figured I qualified now.
I didn't remember how many drinks I ordered. Maybe three, maybe five. The bartender had long since stopped serving me anything but water, but the burn in my throat remained.
My phone buzzed with unread messages.
I didn't look at them instead I stared out at the skyline. The lights blurred together like someone had smudged them with a wet brush.
I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't notice when someone sat beside me.
"You're in my spot."
His voice was deep, low, and precise. Not annoyed just… factual.
I turned slowly. He looked like he belonged in a corporate boardroom, not next to a drunk girl with mascara smudged halfway to her ears. His suit was immaculate, probably worth more than a month of my rent. His face was sharp and unreadable, eyes dark and too intense.
"I'll alert the media," I muttered.
He didn't laugh.
Of course he didn't.
He waved the bartender over and ordered a glass of sparkling water—for me.
"I don't need a babysitter," I said, though I took the drink anyway. My head was already spinning.
"You look like someone who's about to make a very bad decision."
"Already made one, dated a cheating bastard for three years."
That made him raise an eyebrow. "Was the girl his secretary?"
"Worse. My best friend."
He didn't say anything, but I caught the smallest twitch in his jaw.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Are you the bar therapist?"
"No. But I am someone who doesn't like watching people drown when they could swim instead."
"Poetic."
"Practical."
We sat in silence for a few minutes. The rain outside had turned to mist, leaving the glass panels fogged up. I watched the city through the blur.
"Why are you here, then?" I asked, finally.
"I needed a quiet place to think didn't expect company."
"Well, I won't be entertaining."
"You're more interesting than most people I meet."
I snorted. "Must be lonely at the top."
He turned to face me more fully. "Actually, yes."
Another silence.
Then, completely out of nowhere, he said, "I need a wife."
I blinked. "That's… not usually how people open a second conversation."
"I'm serious."
"Clearly."
"It's not about love. It's a business arrangement. Six months, a fake marriage with no strings attached."
I stared at him, unsure if the alcohol was messing with my hearing.
"You don't even know my name."
"I'll learn it."
"That's creepy."
"It's efficient."
"Do you usually approach random women at bars with marriage proposals, or am I just lucky?"
"You're convenient."
My mouth fell open.
"Wow. Okay. Charming."
"I'm not interested in charm," he said coolly. "I'm interested in solving a problem."
He leaned back slightly, appraising me with the same calm intensity you'd expect from someone picking stocks.
"I need a buffer," he said. "My family is pressuring me to marry someone for business reasons. An heiress. A merger wrapped in wedding vows but I don't like being told what to do."
"So you want to fake-marry a stranger instead?"
"Yes."
"Why me?"
"Because you're not connected to anyone important. You're invisible."
My chest twisted. I didn't know why those words hurt so much.
"Invisible," I echoed bitterly.
He didn't flinch. "You have nothing to lose. No job, no family leverage. You're the perfect candidate. You get stability, a place to stay, financial support and I get six months of peace."
"Until your family finds out."
"They won't."
"What if I fall in love with you?" I said, partly mocking, partly wondering.
"You won't."
He said it with such certainty it made my throat dry.
I looked away, my fingers tightening around the glass. I should've walked away. I should've laughed in his face.
But he was right about one thing—I had nothing left.
Jian had cheated, Minxi had betrayed me and my job had already fired me for missing too many shifts to help Jian study for his MBA. I was broke, homeless, and drowning and here was a lifeline.
A cold, calculating lifeline in a tailored suit.
"Do I get a ring?" I asked quietly.
His lips twitched. Not quite a smile. "If you want one."
"And if I say yes?"
"We sign the contract tomorrow."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I walk away and find someone else. But I don't think you will."
Damn him.
He was right.
"Fine," I said, standing slowly. "But if I'm going to be your fake wife, I want a damn good dress."
His gaze flicked down to my ruined heels. "We'll fix that too."
And just like that, my life changed with a single sentence.