Marry a man I barely know to save my family from ruin。

It might've been simple， if my betrothed were anybody else。

On our wedding day， my husband-to-be arrived at the courthouse like a black cloud rolling over Manhattan。 Walt didn't crack smiles or pepper in pleasantries as we exchanged hollow vows in front of the judge。

His disdain for me was so palpable I assumed we'd walk out of that ceremony and resume our regularly scheduled programming。 But then fate was like， Hold my beer。 I got this。

In desperate need of help and with nowhere else to turn， I had no choice but to ignore a crucial rule in our contract: I shall only contact Mr。 Jennings II in case of emergency。 But hey， what's a little fine print between husband and wife？

Turns out， Walt's a stickler for legalese - I think it might be his love language。 Oh， and his attitude at the courthouse wasn't a put-on。 My so-called husband is a jerk。 He takes what he wants without giving any consideration to other people - specifically ME， his blushing， contractually obligated bride！

I knew life with Walt would be no honeymoon， but a marriage of any sort should still come with a few standard guarantees:

To have and to hold。

For richer or poorer。

In sickness and in health。

But after experiencing Walt's version of wedded bliss， I say let's forget about all that lovey-dovey crap and just take me straight to death do us part。