I Married a Homeless Man to Spite My Parents – A Month Later, I Came Home and Froze in Shock at What I Saw

When I offered to marry a homeless stranger, I thought I had it all figured out. It seemed like the perfect arrangement to please my parents with no strings attached. Little did I know I’d be shocked to walk into my house a month later.

I’m Miley, 34 years old, and this is the story of how I went from being a happily single career woman to marrying a homeless man, only to have my world turned upside down in the most unexpected way.

A woman in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney

My parents have been on my case about getting married for as long as I can remember. I feel like they have a timer ticking away in their heads, counting down the seconds until my hair starts turning white.

As a result, every family dinner turned into an impromptu matchmaking session.

“Miley, honey,” my mom, Martha, would start. “You remember the Johnsons’ son? He just got promoted to regional manager at his firm. Maybe you two should grab coffee sometime?”

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

“Mom, I’m not interested in dating right now,” I’d say. “I’m focused on my career.”

“But sweetheart,” my dad, Stephen, would chime in, “your career won’t keep you warm at night. Don’t you want someone to share your life with?”

“I share my life with you guys and my friends,” I’d counter. “That’s enough for me right now.”

But they wouldn’t let up. It was a constant barrage of “What about so-and-so?” and “Did you hear about this nice young man?”

One night, things took a turn for the worse.

A close-up shot of chairs in a house | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of chairs in a house | Source: Pexels

We were having our usual Sunday dinner when my parents dropped a bombshell.

“Miley,” my dad said in a serious tone. “Your mother and I have been thinking.”

“Oh boy, here we go,” I mumbled.

“We’ve decided,” he continued, ignoring my sarcasm, “that unless you’re married by your 35th birthday, you won’t see a cent of our inheritance.”

“What?” I blurted out. “You can’t be serious!”

“We are,” my mom chimed in. “We’re not getting any younger, honey. We want to see you settled and happy. And we want grandchildren while we’re...