When I proposed marrying a homeless stranger, I thought I had planned everything perfectly. It seemed like the ideal arrangement to please my parents without any commitments. I never imagined that a month later I would be shocked as I stepped over the threshold of my own home.
My name is Miley, I’m 34 years old, and this is the story of how I went from being a happy, single woman with a successful career to becoming the wife of a homeless man—and how my world turned upside down in the most unexpected way.
The Pressure from My Parents
My parents had always pressured me to get married. It felt as if there were a ticking clock in their heads, counting down the seconds until my hair would begin to turn gray.
Because of that, every family gathering turned into an impromptu matchmaking session.
— “Miley, dear,” my mother Martha would begin, “Do you remember the Johnson boy? He was recently promoted to regional manager. Maybe you should have coffee together?”
— “Mom, I’m just not interested in relationships right now,” I would reply. “I’m focused on my career.”
— “But, dear,” my father would chime in, “Your career won’t keep you warm at night. Don’t you want someone to share your life with?”
— “I already share my life with you and my friends. That’s enough for me.”
But they wouldn’t give up. Questions like “What about that guy?” or “Have you heard about so-and-so?” kept coming.
The Unexpected Ultimatum
One evening, things took an even worse turn.
During yet another Sunday dinner, my parents made an unexpected announcement.
— “Miley,” my father said in a serious tone, “Your mother and I have made a decision.”
— “Oh, not that again,” I muttered.
— “If you don’t get married by your 35th birthday, you won’t receive a single cent of our inheritance.”
— “What?!” I exclaimed. “You can’t be serious!”
— “We are serious,” my mom confirmed. “We’re not getting any younger, dear. We want to see you happy and settled. And we want grandchildren while we’re still young enough to enjoy them.”
— “This is madness,” I mumbled. “You can’t blackmail me!”
— “It’s not blackmail,” my father said. “It’s… an incentive.”
I left that evening in disbelief. They had given me an ultimatum: find a husband within a few months or say goodbye to my inheritance.
I was angry, not because of the money, but on principle. How dare they try to control my life?
The Crazy Plan
For several weeks, I didn’t answer their calls or visit them.
Then one evening, a brilliant idea came to me.
I was returning from work, thinking about deadlines, when I saw him.
On the sidewalk sat a man in his thirties holding a cardboard sign asking for spare change.
He looked unkempt—his beard was disheveled, his clothes dirty. But there was something in his eyes—kindness and sorrow.
And then a crazy thought struck me.
“Excuse me,” I addressed him. “This may sound strange, but… would you like to get married?”
His eyes widened in surprise.
“Excuse me, what?!” he stammered.
“I know it sounds bizarre, but listen,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I urgently need a husband. This will be a sham marriage. I’ll provide you with housing, clothes, food, and a little money. In return, all you need to do is pretend to be my husband. What do you say?”
He looked at me as if I were crazy.
“Miss, are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” I assured him. “My name is Miley.”
“Stan,” he introduced himself, still astonished. “And you’re really suggesting I marry a homeless man you just met?”
I nodded.
“I know, it sounds insane. But I’m just a woman, desperate because of my overbearing parents.”
He thought for a moment and then, to my amazement, said:
“You know what? Why not? We’ve got a deal, future wife.”
The Unexpected Revelation
I bought Stan new clothes, took him to a barbershop, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that beneath all that grime was a very attractive man.
Three days later, I introduced him to my parents as my fiancé. They were shocked.
A month later, we got married.
I signed a solid prenuptial agreement to avoid any complications. But, to my surprise, living with Stan turned out not to be so bad.
He was smart, funny, and caring. We became good friends, like roommates who occasionally had to play the role of a loving couple.
But there was one mystery: Stan never explained how he ended up on the streets.
Every time I tried to find out, he would look away and evade an answer.
The Truth Comes Out
One day I came home and discovered a trail of rose petals.
When I entered the living room, a surprise awaited me.
The entire room was strewn with roses, and in the center lay a huge heart made of petals.
In its center stood Stan.
But this wasn’t the Stan I knew.
He was dressed in an elegant black tuxedo, holding a small box in his hands.
“Stan?” I gasped. “What’s happening?”
He smiled.
“Miley, you made me happy. But I’d be even happier if you married me for real. I fell in love with you at first sight. Will you be my wife?”
I was stunned.
“Stan, where did you get the money for all this? For the tuxedo, the flowers, the ring?”
He took a deep breath.
“I think it’s time to tell you the truth.”
It turned out that he had never been poor.
His brothers had forged documents, stolen his identity, and stripped him of his business. They bribed the police and lawyers, and then dumped him in a strange city.
When I took him in, he decided to fight back. He hired the best attorneys, and now his court case is scheduled for next month.
“In reality, I’m not poor at all,” he concluded. “But I was searching for a woman who would love me not for my money. And you helped me when you thought I had nothing.”
I sank onto the sofa, shocked.
“Stan, you caught me off guard. I think I’m starting to feel something for you too, but this is all so unexpected.”
He nodded.
“Then let’s do this: in six months, if your feelings haven’t changed, we’ll have a real wedding.”
I smiled.
“Okay.”
He slipped a ring onto my finger, and we shared our first kiss.
In that moment, I realized: sometimes life is truly full of surprises.
