What began as a reckless decision to outsmart my parents led me to a series of unexpected events I never saw coming. In an attempt to silence their constant nagging about my single status, I did the unthinkable: I married a homeless man.
I’m Miley, 34, a professional woman with a thriving career but absolutely no interest in being in a relationship. My parents, however, saw my unmarried status as a problem. They relentlessly pushed me to find a man, as if my happiness depended on it.
It wasn’t uncommon for family dinners to turn into matchmaking sessions. “Miley,” my mom would say, her voice dripping with excitement, “Have you met Nathan? He’s got a great job and a future. Why not go grab a coffee?”
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I would always respond, “Mom, I’m not looking to date right now. I’m focused on my career.”
But they refused to take no for an answer. My dad often joined in, “Honey, your career can’t give you the warmth of a family. Don’t you want someone to share your life with?”
“I already share my life with you and my friends,” I’d reply. “That’s enough for me.”
It wasn’t until one fateful Sunday dinner that things took an absurd turn.
“We’ve been thinking, Miley,” my dad began, his voice grave, “and we’ve come to a decision. If you’re not married by your 35th birthday, you’ll forfeit your inheritance.”
I was speechless. “What? This isn’t happening. You can’t do this!”
“We can,” my mom chimed in. “You need to settle down. We want to see you happy and have grandchildren before we get too old.”
I was furious—not because I cared about the money, but because they had tried to control my life. I stormed out, determined to cut them off.
For weeks, I ignored their calls, until one day, I had an epiphany.
