The persistent hum of the ceiling fan was my only companion in the suffocating silence of my bedroom. Sleep, a loyal friend even amidst my chaotic life, had abandoned me tonight, leaving me to the relentless churn of my thoughts. Every squeak of the fan blades seemed to echo the anxiety swirling in my gut.

Just yesterday, my world had been predictable, if tiring. Now, it felt like a fragile glass about to shatter. The memory of the hospital, my father’s stubborn defiance, and the terrifying pronouncement from Dr. Mildred about his near-miss, played on an endless loop.

“He was lucky this time, we could have truly lost him,” her words, heavy with solemnity, still sent a shiver down my spine. I had promised, with a conviction I didn't truly feel, that I'd ensure his recovery. But promises felt hollow when faced with the truth: his business was bankrupt, and a debt, a staggering five million, hung over us like a guillotine.

And then, the 'offer.' Marriage. To a stranger. A chilling, ridiculous proposition that, in my father’s desperate eyes, held the key to his freedom and our survival.