The day my parents decided to marry me to him – a man in a wheelchair – I cried all night.

The day my parents decided to marry me to him – a man in a wheelchair – I cried all night. I was only 23 years old, and he was 10 years older than me. I thought I would marry a strong, handsome man who could hold my hand and walk around town, not someone who would have to rely on wheels for the rest of his life.

But my family owed his family a huge debt. He proposed to marry me, as a way to help my parents escape the brink. I nodded, clicking my tongue and saying to myself: “Well, let’s just call it fate.”

The wedding ceremony was simple, not as lavish as the weddings I had dreamed of. He wore a gray suit, sat in a wheelchair, his eyes shining with happiness, while I kept my head down, not daring to look at anyone. Throughout the ceremony, I wondered, was my life over?

That night, I sat absent-mindedly in the bridal chamber. He rolled his wheelchair over and handed me a glass of hot milk:

– Drink, I’m tired.

I took the glass of milk, surprised by how gentle his voice was. He told me to shower first. When I came out, he was already sitting by the bed, holding a file in his hand.

– Come here, I want to show you something.

I sat down. He opened the file. It contained house plans, furniture samples, and some sketches of bougainvillea on the balcony.

– I know you love bougainvillea. I’ve commissioned someone to design our new house so we can move in a few months. I want you to live in a place you love.

I looked at him with wide eyes. Only then did I notice that he had a calm face, deep and gentle eyes. He looked at me, smiled and said:

– I am paralyzed in both legs, but I can still work and give you a full life. If you don’t like this marriage, just say so and I will sign the divorce papers immediately. I didn’t marry you to tie you down, I just… wanted the chance to love you.

I was suddenly speechless. No one had ever said such words to me in my life.

That night, he didn’t touch me. He just sat leaning against the headboard reading a book, occasionally turning to cover me with the blanket. I turned my back to the wall, but tears soaked my pillow.

The following days, he was still as gentle as ever. He left breakfast in front of my door, not bothering me while I was still sleeping. He hired a tutor to help me learn English, and signed me up for an online course in graphic design – something I had dreamed of but never had the chance to learn. In the evening, he rolled his wheelchair out to the terrace to water the plants, and I stood watching from afar, feeling a strange ache in my chest.

Then one day, he took me out to dinner. When I got to the gate, I saw a brilliant bougainvillea trellis in front of the house, which had just been put up that afternoon. I burst into tears.

– How did you know I like paper flowers so much? – I asked through sobs.

He smiled, the yellow light shining on his face making it even softer.

– Because you always listen to me, even when I never speak.

On the second wedding night, he asked me:

– Are you scared?

I shook my head slightly. He gently placed his hand on my cheek, then kissed my forehead, my eyelids. His kisses were warm, gentle, but also intense. I thought he would be weak in a wheelchair, but on the contrary, his arms were strong, his breath was hot in my ear, making my heart beat wildly. That whole night, he made me exhausted, but not because of pain or pressure, but because he loved me with all his sincerity and long-suppressed desire.

I never thought that the man I once considered a “burden of fate” would become my whole sky.

Now, every morning when I wake up, I see him making me a cup of coffee, the bougainvillea on the balcony swaying in the sun, and he sits there, smiling, his eyes shining with a love that I could never repay in this lifetime.

The days turned into months, and my heart slowly shifted without me realizing it.

I began to notice the little things — how he always moved his wheelchair quietly in the mornings so as not to wake me; how he would wait for me to come home before having dinner, even if it was late; how he would smile whenever I talked about my dreams, as if they were his own.

One afternoon, I returned from my graphic design class to find the living room filled with sketches. They weren’t of houses or furniture this time — they were of me. My face, my hair tied messily, my profile as I watered the balcony plants, even my back as I leaned over my laptop.

I turned to him in disbelief.
— You… drew these?

He smiled shyly.
— I used to draw a lot before the accident. I thought I had lost the inspiration. Then you came.

Something warm spread in my chest, and for the first time, I crossed the room, knelt in front of his wheelchair, and hugged him tightly. I felt his breath catch in surprise, then his arms wrapped around me with a tenderness that made my eyes sting.

From that day on, I no longer avoided holding his hand in public. When people stared, I met their gaze without shame, because I knew I was holding the hand of a man who loved me more than anyone else ever

One winter evening, as we sat together on the balcony watching the sun fade into a wash of orange and pink, he said quietly:
— I used to think my life ended the day I lost the use of my legs. But now… now I know I was just waiting to meet you.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
— And I used to think marrying you was a sacrifice. But now I realize… it was the greatest gift my parents ever gave me.

The bougainvillea rustled softly in the cold breeze, their blossoms vivid against the fading sky. In that moment, I understood that love doesn’t always come in the form we expect. Sometimes it arrives quietly, disguised as a compromise, only to reveal itself as the kind of happiness we never dared to dream of.

Years later, we still start our mornings the same way — he makes my coffee, I kiss his cheek, and we sit together under the bougainvillea. His wheelchair is no longer something I see; all I see is the man who turned my fate into my forever home.

And every time I look into his eyes, I silently promise: No matter how many lifetimes we have, I will find you again.