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“That’s it? I have a deadline now?” I asked.
My mother barely looked up. “We’re thinking about your future, Adam. People your age settle down all the time.”
“People… or people with the right last name?”
Dad’s lips tightened slightly. “We’ve introduced you to plenty of suitable women.”
“Suitable for what? Their fathers’ business deals? Their social circles? You can’t be serious.”
“This isn’t about that,” my mother sighed.
I set down my fork. “Then maybe you should just choose for me.”
“No one’s forcing you,” my father replied.
But we both knew the truth.
There was no real choice.
Soon, I was sent on endless dates with women who cared more about status than substance.
After one particularly exhausting dinner, I wandered into a small café downtown, desperate for something real.
That’s where I saw her.
Claire.
She laughed easily, remembered every order, teased customers kindly, and treated everyone with warmth.
When she came to my table, she smiled. “Rough day?”
“You could say that.”
She poured my coffee. “The secret is extra sugar. On the house. I’m Claire.”
I studied her for a moment.
Then I said, “Do you have five minutes later? I have a strange proposal.”
She tilted her head. “My break’s in two hours. If you’re still here, we’ll talk.”
For the first time in months, I wanted to stay.
When she finally sat down beside me during her break, she handed me a plate of cookies.
“So,” she said, “what’s this strange proposal?”
“This might sound crazy,” I admitted. “But hear me out.”