Chapter 3 An Unexpected Proposal

Theodore's POV

"Are you all right?" The question left my mouth before I could think about it. The woman inside the car slowly lowered her hands from her face and looked at me. Her eyes were red from crying. Tears still clung to her cheeks, and for a moment, she looked almost embarrassed to have been caught in such a vulnerable state. I had seen what happened inside the restaurant. I hadn't meant to listen. I had been sitting at my table, waiting for someone I didn't even want to meet, when the man's voice caught my attention. At first, I ignored it. But the more I heard, the harder it became to look away. The things he said to her were cruel. And she had taken them without causing a scene. Until now. She stared at me for a few seconds before wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I don't need your pity." I frowned slightly. "I wasn't offering pity." She gave a bitter laugh. "Then what are you offering?" I didn't answer immediately. She looked away, clearly embarrassed by the tears she had shed in front of me. "If you feel sorry for me," she continued, "then solve the problem." I raised an eyebrow. "What problem?" She turned back to me, and there was something almost daring in her eyes now. "Marriage." I stared at her. She seemed to realize how ridiculous her words sounded, but instead of taking them back, she continued. "If you really feel sorry for me, marry me. Then you can make everyone who humiliated me watch." For the first time since today, I was genuinely speechless. This woman had gone from crying in her car to proposing marriage to a man she barely knew. And she wasn't finished. "But you should know something first," she added. "I can't have children." Her voice became quieter. "I can't give you a child, so if that's a problem for you, forget everything I just said." I continued staring at her. She mistook my silence for an answer. "You see?" she said, her voice turning bitter. "You can't solve it either. So you should just leave me alone." She reached for the handkerchief I had given her earlier and wiped her cheeks with it. Then she blew her nose into it. I couldn't help it. A chuckle escaped me. Her eyes narrowed immediately. "What?" I shook my head, trying to suppress another smile. "You're angry." "Of course I'm angry." "And you're using my handkerchief." She looked down at the handkerchief in her hand as if she had forgotten it was there. Her expression became even more irritated. "You gave it to me." I nodded, "I did." "So don't complain." "I wasn't complaining." She glared at me. For someone who had been crying moments ago, she certainly had enough strength left to fight. I studied her quietly. Diana Quinn. I had heard her name before. Everyone in our circle had. The woman who had been abandoned at the altar six years ago. The woman people whispered about. But I had never cared enough to know the details. Until today. Now I understood something. She wasn't weak. She was hurt. There was a difference. I looked at her for a long moment before finally speaking. "I don't think getting married is a bad idea." Her expression changed. "What?" "We should get married." She blinked. I could see the confusion spreading across her face. She had expected me to laugh at her, or perhaps walk away. Instead, I was standing there seriously considering the very thing she had thrown at me in anger. "I mean it," I said. She stared at me as though she was trying to figure out whether I had lost my mind. "You don't even know me." "I know enough." "No, you don't." "Maybe not." I kept my voice calm. "But I know you're not looking for someone to rescue you. You were angry because you thought I was looking at you with pity." Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing. I continued. "And I also know you can't have children. But that doesn't bother me." Her expression tightened. She looked genuinely stunned. I had no reason to lie. I couldn't have children either. It was one of the reasons my family had been so desperate to arrange dates for me. They knew about my condition and had decided that finding a suitable wife was the solution. I had never agreed with them. Marriage had never interested me enough to fight for it. Until now. "I can't have children either," I told her. Her eyes widened. For several seconds, neither of us spoke. The surprise on her face was impossible to miss. She blinked, almost as though she had misunderstood me. I didn't explain further. She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and looked away. "This is ridiculous." She reached for the car door. I understood that she wanted the conversation to end. She pulled the door toward herself, but I caught it before she could close it. She looked at my hand, then at me. "I meant what I said," I told her. "If you're willing to marry me, then we should get married." Her eyes searched mine. "You're serious?" "Yes." I paused. "I was looking for a wife anyway." She said nothing. Whatever she had been expecting from this day, I was certain it wasn't this. She pushed against the door again. I released it. The door slammed shut. A second later, I heard the engine start. Diana didn't look at me again. She drove away. I remained standing beside the parking space, watching her car disappear into the distance. I had no idea why I had said yes. Perhaps it was because I had seen the humiliation in her eyes and recognized something familiar in it. Perhaps it was because, for once, someone had spoken to me without knowing who I was or what my family expected from me. Or perhaps I was simply tired. Tired of being pushed toward women I had no interest in. Tired of hearing that I needed a wife. Tired of having my private life treated like a family project. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I glanced at the screen. Three missed calls from my mother. I sighed. Of course. She was probably wondering whether I had met the woman she had arranged for me. I slipped the phone back into my pocket. The truth was, I had no intention of coming here today. My family had insisted. They had found another woman they considered suitable and decided that I needed to meet her. They had made it clear that refusing would only lead to another round of arguments. So I had come. I had expected the usual. A woman trying too hard to impress me. Questions about my wealth. Questions about my family. A little flirting. And eventually, the same expectation that I should chase after her. I had no patience for any of it. I glanced at my watch. She was already more than thirty minutes late. I had given her enough time. Just as I turned to leave, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. "Mr. Calloway?" I stopped. A woman approached, slightly out of breath. She was dressed elegantly, carrying a small handbag. Her expression was apologetic. "I'm so sorry I'm late. There was traffic, and then my driver-" I looked at her without saying anything. She stopped speaking. Perhaps she finally noticed my expression. "I know I should have called," she said quickly. "But I thought you wouldn't mind waiting a little." Of course. I had been right. She was exactly the type of woman I expected. The type who believed her beauty gave her permission to waste a man's time. The type who expected men to chase after her simply because she had finally decided to show up. I looked at her for another second. Then I spoke. "Don't ever appear in front of me again." Her face fell. "Mr. Calloway, I-" I walked past her. I didn't owe her an explanation. I got into my car, closed the door, and started the engine. As I drove away from the restaurant, my mind returned to the woman who had just driven off. Diana Quinn. She had asked me to marry her because she was hurt. I had agreed because, for reasons I didn't fully understand yet, the idea didn't seem as absurd as it should have. Perhaps the woman I had been searching for had just walked into my life crying. And perhaps, for the first time, I wasn't looking for a reason to walk away.