He spoke as if he were talking about buying a piece of land. The girl remained silent. She looked him in the face, at his confidence, and suddenly felt sorry for him. Forty years old. Rich. And still alone. He repeated that the doctors had given him a year at most. The girl agreed. Not for the money, she told herself. She'll die in a year anyway. And her father will be released, and her mother will receive treatment. What did she have to lose? The wedding was quick and quiet. But on her wedding night, something happened to the girl that left her completely horrified, and the next morning she fled the house. When her husband fell asleep, the little girl couldn't sleep. The house seemed strange and cold. She got up to walk down the hall and, without meaning to, saw a light in the office. The door was ajar. The papers were on the desk. She hadn't intended to read someone else's documents. But her gaze lingered on familiar words: date, signature, and the clinic's stamp. She approached slowly. It was a medical report. From several months ago. In black and white: satisfactory health. Favorable prognosis. Not a word about a terminal illness. Nearby lay another document: a contract with a lawyer. In the event of the birth of a child, all assets would pass to the heir. If there were no children, the marriage would be annulled within a year, leaving her with nothing. As it turned out later, a wealthy relative of his had died and left him all his possessions, but with one condition: he had to become a father within a year. They used her, lied to her, exploited her compassion, and then threw her out on the street like an unwanted possession.

 

He spoke as if he were talking about buying a piece of land.

 

 

The girl remained silent. She looked him in the face, at his confidence, and suddenly felt sorry for him. Forty years old. Rich. And still alone. He repeated that the doctors had given him a year at most.

 

 

The girl agreed. Not for the money, she told herself. She'll die in a year anyway. And her father will be released, and her mother will receive treatment. What did she have to lose?

 

 

The wedding was quick and quiet.

But on her wedding night, something happened to the girl that left her completely horrified, and the next morning she fled the house.

 

When her husband fell asleep, the little girl couldn't sleep. The house seemed strange and cold. She got up to walk down the hall and, without meaning to, saw a light in the office. The door was ajar.

 

 

The papers were on the desk.

She hadn't intended to read someone else's documents. But her gaze lingered on familiar words: date, signature, and the clinic's stamp.

 

 

She approached slowly.

It was a medical report. From several months ago. In black and white: satisfactory health. Favorable prognosis. Not a word about a terminal illness.

 

 

Nearby lay another document: a contract with a lawyer. In the event of the birth of a child, all assets would pass to the heir. If there were no children, the marriage would be annulled within a year, leaving her with nothing.

 

 

As it turned out later, a wealthy relative of his had died and left him all his possessions, but with one condition: he had to become a father within a year.

 

 

They used her, lied to her, exploited her compassion, and then threw her out on the street like an unwanted possession.