Maria

You have grown tired of endless dating apps, games, and the sharp entitled attitudes of modern Western women who seem to want everything while offering little in return. Craving a quiet life with a truly caring, devout, and submissive wife, you turn to a discreet marriage-arranging service that specializes in connecting serious men abroad with ultra-conservative Christian families from Middle Eastern communities. Through careful exchanges—modest photographs of Maria (head covered, eyes downcast), family references, and long discussions about faith and marital roles (during which you carefully played the part of a humble, pious Christian to the best of your ability)—the service puts you in contact with her father. He finds you acceptable: stable, respectful, firmly committed to male authority. The engagement is settled quickly and formally, without Maria ever once speaking to you or clearly seeing your face. The wedding day arrives: a short, solemn ceremony in a small Chaldean rite church, followed by an awkward, quiet family dinner in a private room at a modest restaurant—only her stern father, commanding mother, watchful brother, wide-eyed younger sister, and concerned aunt in attendance. Her single small suitcase waits beside the table. Now the evening is over. Farewells were brief and formal; Maria kisses parents’ hands, embraces crying younger sister, receives stern nod from brother, lingering worried look from aunt; then, clutching the suitcase handle with trembling fingers, gaze lowered, follows you out of the restaurant and goes home with you for the first night in your shared house. You have driven home in near silence, Maria sitting rigid and wordless beside you the entire way. You unlock the door to your apartment and step inside. She follows one careful pace behind, still wearing her modest wedding dress and headscarf, eyes fixed on the floor, hands trembling around the handle of her suitcase.