Signed In Silence

Waking up expecting a normal day felt like dreaming too big, like a poor girl imagining life as a billionaire - only to realize that normalcy vanishes the moment change arrives.

Tara's phone rang before she could even make sense of the fact that she was awake, or alive, or sitting up. Its insistent tone slicing through the serenity of her apartment like a warning.

Half-awake, half-asleep, she hesitated, staring at the screen, her vision still blurred. A name she didn't recognize flashed back at her, calm and professional, dragging her fully into reality.

"Lawyer", it read.

It might as well have said disaster.

Her chest tightened. Sometimes, reality has a way of arriving before coffee.

"Hello?" Her voice came out as a whisper, swallowed by a sudden weight pressing down on her chest.

"Good morning, Mrs Hale" he said, and waited, confident she wouldn't object.

"I'm sorry," she said, pressing the phone tighter to her ear as though proximity could fix the unexpected. "You must have the wrong person."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. The rustle of papers, a throat being cleared - small sounds that sliced through the quiet. "I assure you ma'am, I don't."

Her stomach tightened.He introduced himself again, this time calm and polished, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to being believed. He spelled out her full name, including her middle name which she rarely answered to, then recited her date of birth like it was a password to luxury he had already hacked.

Then he said it again.

"Mrs Hale!"

Tara sank onto the edge of her bed, trying to breathe, gaze fixed on nothing as the tranquility of her apartment revealed itself as a lie.

"I'm not married" she said, more firmly this time.

Another pause - longer now.

"You signed the marriage documents on January 20th at Orchard Hospital", he said.

"Witnessed, filed and finalized."

The room tilted.

Memories flickered- fluorescent lights, sharp sting of antiseptic, a nurse shouting for consent forms. The memory hit her all at once. Blood on her hands that weren't hers.

A man slumped in a wheelchair. Pale. Barely conscious.

She remembered thinking someone should help him, before the thought dissolved into fear.

She remembered signing what she had assumed were consent forms.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

"Yes," the lawyer said gently, mistaking her shock for hesitation. "I believe congratulations are appropriate."

Tara's breath caught.

Congratulations for what exactly?"NO" she exhaled. "No, no, no. Those were hospital papers. I was told they were....."

"Emergency documentation," he finished. "Yes, including marital consent."

Her chest felt too tight.

"Why would anyone need to get married in an emergency?"

There it was– the shift. The hesitation. The careful recalibration.

"That," he said slowly, "is something Mr Hale will explain himself. He's asked that you come in today."

"I don't know any Mr Hale."

Another lie - softer this time.

She did know him.

A deep voice asking her name. A grip on her hand that had felt more grounding than invasive. Heavy eyes she couldn't clearly recall, yet somehow felt dark and watchful,

"Where is he?" she asked.

The address came immediately, as though this had all been expected.

By the time Tara hung up, her hands were shaking. Her heart felt numb. Her thoughts disoriented.

She laughed -short, hysterical then tried to stand. Her legs betrayed her, trembling as she stumbled back onto the bed.

Finally upright, she paced the length of her apartment, heart pounding, thoughts colliding.

"Married?" she said aloud. "To a stranger? Legally?"

It was then it dawned on her.

She hadn't been married through a proposal, a ceremony, or a kiss but through deception.She grabbed her keys.

The building rose before her, all glass and steel, sleek and polished like it was daring the sky to compete. Yet to Tara, it felt less like architecture and more like arrogance made concrete. Each reflective surface gleamed with wealth and control; every sharp edge whispered authority she hadn't asked for.

She stepped closer, heels clicking against the tiled floor, and felt the same weight pressing down on her chest that had started the moment she'd picked up the phone.

This wasn't just a building.

It was a statement.

And apparently, she was expected to fit into it.

The security didn't even blink when she gave her name. Without a word, they escorted her to the top floor, moving as though she had always belonged there.

The office doors slid open silently.

He stood by the window, his back turned to her, the city stretched beneath him like something he owned. Tall, broad-shouldered. Impossibly composed.

When he turned, recognition struck, not clear, not complete but enough.

Hospital lights. Blood pooled on the floor. Dark, heavy eyes.

"Ethan Hale!" She whispered in her thoughts.

"You came," he said.

Her shock sharpened into anger, so precise it steadied her.

"Why," she asked, each word deliberate though uncertain, "am I married to you?"

He studied her for a moment like she was a see-through variable he'd accounted for and had not anticipated feeling guilty about."Because," he said calmly, "you saved my life."

"That does not come with a marriage license."

"No it doesn't," he agreed. "But guardianship laws do."

Her confusion flickered.

"My sister," he continued, "she's sixteen. Our parents are dead. I needed emergency approval to keep her out of state custody, and marriage hastened the process.

"Tara stared at him, disbelief giving way to irritation.

"You used me."

"Yes," he followed.

The honesty stunned her more than a lie would have.

"You let me sign a contract I didn't understand."

"I let you help," he corrected quietly. "I never forced your hand."

She smirked bitterly.

"You manipulated a stranger at a moment of vulnerability, a night that should have

demanded care not deception."

"His jaw tightened. "I did what I had to do."

The air between them thickened.

"I want this undone," Tara said.

"You can't."

Her heart sank.

"The marriage is valid," he continued. "But we can dissolve it."

Relief sparked, brief, fragile."In six months."

"Six months?" her voice cracked. "So what now? You expect me to just stay married to you?"

"Yes"

"Absolutely not."

"You'll live here," he said, as though discussing a business arrangement.

"It'll remain private. No public appearances. No emotional expectations. At the end of six months, we divorce quietly."

Cold settled in her chest.

"And if I say no?"

Something unguarded flickering in his eyes.

"Then my sister loses everything," he said. "Including her freedom."

That did it.

The anger didn't explode–it sank. Because Tara had always been weak to that kind of truth. Truths carrying consequences she didn't fully own. Choices where someone else bore the cost.

She swallowed hard.

"This is temporary"

"Yes," he obliged.

"This is not real."

"No."

"And when this is over," she added softly, "I walk away."He nodded.

But something in his expression suggested he already knew that living together would change everything .