My fiancé forced me to sign a prenup. But then I found his secret savings account. He said; ‘Honey, it is just a backup plan.’ So I made sure he’d need it, very badly….
The pen felt heavier than it should have. The paper in front of me—the neatly printed words, the cold legal jargon—blurred for a moment. I blinked, refocusing on the bold title at the top: PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT.
Across the table, Ethan, my fiancé of three years, tapped his fingers on the polished wood, his face carefully composed. “It’s just a precaution, Lorey,” he said smoothly. “You understand, right? Just in case.”