The Proposal That Wasn't?

Rayan had never felt this unsure in his life. Numbers, business models, board meetings—he dominated them all. But this? Proposing a fake marriage to his intern?

He stood in the center of his office, one hand hidden in his pocket, the other gripping a draft of the contract he’d typed himself. The air smelled faintly of bergamot and tension. His gaze was fixed on Aira, who stood a few feet away, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“I need you to marry me,” he said.

Aira blinked. “You… what?”

“Not real marriage,” he said quickly, forcing calm into his voice. “Just a contract marriage. One year.”

She stared at him, stunned. “Why would you ask me that?”

Rayan hesitated.

Three days ago, he had overheard his parents talking in their garden, unaware he had arrived early for dinner.

“He’s going to be alone forever at this rate,” his mother sighed. “He’s always working.”

His father’s reply was quieter, firmer. “He’s a brilliant CEO. But investors are already whispering. They want stability. If he doesn’t show them he can settle down, they’ll doubt he’s mature enough to lead.”

Rayan had frozen at the doorway, the words striking deeper than he expected. He had everything—power, money, respect—but no one to share it with. No softness at the end of the day.

Later that night, he had opened Aira’s forgotten sketchbook in his office. Every page reflected warmth, ambition, and quiet elegance. She was passionate, bold, yet grounded. And most of all—she made the world feel… lighter.

That’s when he knew.

Back in the present, he stepped toward her.

“I chose you because I trust you, Aira. Because you're strong, and real. And I don’t want to fake this with anyone else.”

She crossed her arms, trying to hide how fast her heart was beating.

“So you want me to pretend to be your wife for the world? Live with you? Smile, pose, play house—like it’s nothing?”

“No. I want us to set boundaries, rules. You'll have your freedom. You can focus on your designs. You’ll be paid. And when the year ends, we part ways quietly.”

Her voice was small. “And if one of us starts to feel… different?”

He paused. The thought had haunted him.

“We deal with it. Together.”

Her chest rose and fell. “This could ruin everything.”

“Or it could help both of us,” he said, softer now.

She turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. The skyline stretched endlessly, just like the questions in her mind. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself?

“What about your parents?” she asked. “Won’t they expect more than a show?”

“They’ll expect a daughter-in-law,” he said. “But I won’t pressure you. You’ll never have to act alone.”

She turned back to him, gaze sharp but unsure. “So what, we kiss for cameras? Hold hands for the press?”

He gave a slight smile. “Only when necessary.”

Her lips twitched despite herself.

“What about living together?”

“I’ll give you your own space. Full privacy. No surprises.”

She walked toward him slowly, arms still crossed.

“I design dresses,” she said quietly. “I don’t fake marriages.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Maybe you’ll design your wedding dress for the contract. Limited edition?”

She laughed despite herself. Then caught herself.

“I need to think.”