Chapter 2: The Proposal

After I hung up, I kept seeing that girl’s face in my mind and shook my head.

As a stranger and a volunteer, I’d done all I could. The rest was up to her.

But the next day, SightLine rang again.

It was her.

My thumb hovered over the 'accept' button. Was I really about to meet a stranger from an app? But her voice—so steady, so tired—made it hard to say no.

Her request caught me off guard:

“Can we meet?”

I gently reminded her, “You know, meeting a strange man alone isn’t exactly a wise decision.”

She gave a bitter smile. “To me, friends and relatives are far more dangerous. Maybe strangers are actually the safest. Oh, and don’t call me Miss. My name is Natalie.”

I looked at the girl on the screen. “Hello, Natalie. I’m Caleb. If I agree to meet, what do you want from me?”

“I want to ask you for a favor. Of course, I’ll pay you well.”

She wore a gray hoodie this time, sleeves bunched at her wrists, her voice steady but thin. The background looked like a modest living room—framed graduation photos on the wall, a battered upright piano peeking into view.

...

I admit, Natalie’s appearance was part of why I agreed to meet her.

It’s hard for any man to refuse a pitiful girl of seventeen or eighteen.

When we met at the coffee shop, Natalie looked even better in person than on video.

The coffee shop was a cozy indie place—mismatched furniture, indie music, the rich scent of cinnamon buns. Baristas scribbled names on cups in Sharpie, and a couple of college kids argued over indie band rankings in the corner. I spotted Natalie at a window table, sunlight catching in her hair. She wore oversized sunglasses and sipped from a paper cup, careful, composed.

I figured she might want me as a witness for the police—or maybe to help her investigate who was trying to hurt her.

But I never expected her first words to shock me so thoroughly:

“Caleb, I need you to marry me.”

She let the words hang there, then added, “Not for love. For survival.”

I was stunned, my mouth half-open.

“This is our first time meeting...”

She cut in, “Third time.”

“Okay, counting the two video calls, that’s three. Still not a lot.”

Natalie pressed, “Will you or not?”

I was silent.

She frowned. “Is it because I’m blind?”

I quickly denied it. “No, no, that’s not it. The point is, we’re strangers.”

She sighed. “I told you, strangers are the safest for me.”

“Why?”

“Because strangers have no vested interest in me.”

Then she told me her story.