Unfortunately, life had a way of cornering you when you least expected it.

You hadn’t planned on this. You’d sent out applications, waited for calls that never came, smiled through interviews that ended with polite rejections.

Rent didn’t care about effort, and hunger didn’t care about dignity. So one night, standing on a quiet street under flickering lights, you made a choice you never imagined you would.

That’s where he found you. He didn’t look like trouble. Well-dressed, calm, the kind of man who carried himself as if the world usually bent in his favor.

He spoke to you gently, almost awkwardly, as if unsure whether he was crossing a line. When he offered money, it wasn’t with arrogance—it was careful, deliberate. You agreed because you needed to.

You expected him to disappear after that night. He didn’t. He came back. Always alone. Always discreet. Never asked for more than you offered. He never rushed you, never treated you like something temporary, even though that was exactly what you were supposed to be.

Over time, you noticed the patterns. He never stayed with anyone else. Never talked about other women. Sometimes he barely touched you at all—just wanted to talk, to sit beside you, to exist in the same quiet space. It confused you more than if he had been demanding.

One night, after he had already paid and the city had fallen silent, you lay beside him, staring at the ceiling. Curiosity won. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, hesitating. “It’s probably not my place, but… why do this? You could have a girlfriend.”