Kate didn't come back that night.
Jenny lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the dorm settling into sleep. Her mind wouldn't quiet. It spun around the problem, examining it from all angles like a debate case. For the motion: A marriage of convenience provides legal and social protection for Kate and her child.
The arguments formed with terrifying clarity.
Point one: Legitimacy. A child born within a marriage faced fewer social hurdles.
Point two: Financial aid. Married student housing, potential joint filing for grants.
Point three: Family pressure. A wedding, even a quiet one, could mitigate scandal.
Point four: Future flexibility. A marriage could be dissolved later, cleanly, once the child was older and circumstances stable.
The rebuttals were just as clear.
Point one: Fraud. Deceiving families, institutions.
Point two: Emotional entanglement. These things were never just business.
Point three: The groom. Who would possibly agree?
That was the flaw in the logic. The missing variable.
She finally fell into a fitful sleep just before dawn.
Kate slipped back into the room as the morning light was turning gray to gold. She looked wrecked—eyes red-rimmed, hair a mess, but there was a grim set to her jaw.
"Mark knows," she said, her voice hoarse. She sank onto her bed, not bothering to take off her jacket.
"And?"
"And he's terrified. But he says it's his responsibility. He wants to… get married." She said the word like it was a life sentence.
Jenny sat up. "What did you say?"
"I said no." Kate looked at her, tears welling again. "Not like that. Not because we have to. I won't start a marriage with a gun to our heads. It'll poison everything." She buried her face in her hands. "But I don't know what else to do. We can't do this alone. We need… structure. Something to hold us up."
The opening was there. The logical next step in the argument.
Jenny took a breath. "What if the marriage wasn't between you and Mark?"
Kate lowered her hands, confusion wiping away the misery for a second. "What?"
"What if it was a partnership? A legal arrangement for the baby's benefit, between you and someone else? Someone who could provide the structure without the… emotional complication."
Kate stared at her as if she'd started speaking in tongues. "Who on earth would do that?"
Jenny's heart hammered against her ribs. The idea was fully formed now, terrifying in its simplicity. "Your cousin. Ian."
The silence that followed was absolute. Kate's mouth opened, closed. "Ian? My gay cousin Ian?"
"You said his family is pressuring him. About settling down. About an heir. You said he's dreading the next family dinner because his mother keeps showing him pictures of debutantes."
"Yes, but… Jenny, he's gay. He has a boyfriend. Dean."
"Which is why a real marriage isn't an option for him either," Jenny pressed, her debater's instinct taking over. "This solves problems for both of you. He gets a beard—a wife to satisfy his family's traditional expectations. You get a husband on paper to give your child a name and legitimacy. It's a mutually beneficial contract."
Kate stood up, pacing the small space between the beds. "You're serious. You're actually serious."
"It's just a thought."
"It's a crazy thought! Ian would never agree. And even if he did… what about you? Where do you fit into this?"
Jenny hadn't planned to say it. The words left her mouth before she could cage them. "I could be the wife."
Kate stopped pacing, frozen. "What?"
"Not for real," Jenny said quickly, heat rising to her cheeks. "I mean… you need a bride for Ian. Someone who understands it's an arrangement. Someone with no expectations. Someone who…" she struggled for the reason, the one that was truer than all the logic, "someone who needs a place to belong, too. The scholarship only covers four years. After that, I have nothing. No family, no home. This… a partnership, a place in a family unit, even a pretend one… it's security. For me, too."
She laid it bare. The desperate calculus of her own survival. It was humiliating. But it was real.
Kate sank back onto the bed, her eyes searching Jenny's face. "You'd do that? Marry a gay man you barely know? Raise a baby that isn't yours? Just for… a room?"
"Not just for a room," Jenny whispered. "For a place. For a reason to be somewhere. To be part of something that isn't a lie built on resentment." She looked down at her hands. "I'm good at playing a role. I've had practice being invisible. I could be the quiet, dutiful wife. I could help with the baby. I could make it work."
The enormity of what she was suggesting settled over them both. The morning sun climbed higher, painting stripes of light across the ugly dorm carpet.
"You need to meet Ian," Kate said finally, her voice firm with decision. "Tonight. We all need to talk. No commitments. Just… theory."
The Coffee Shop - That Evening
Ian Carter looked like a Renaissance painting that had decided to wear a vintage band t-shirt and distressed jeans. He was tall, with artfully messy brown hair and the same sharp green eyes as Kate. He sat beside a wiry, handsome man with a guarded expression—Dean.
Jenny felt profoundly out of place. She'd worn her best sweater, but it still looked shabby next to their casual cool.
"Okay, Katie," Ian said, stirring his coffee slowly. "You said it was an emergency that couldn't be discussed over the phone. This feels dramatic even for you." His voice was warm, teasing, but his eyes were wary as they flicked to Jenny.
Kate took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."
The words landed like a physical blow. Ian's spoon clattered against his mug. Dean's eyebrows shot up.
"Mark?" Ian asked.
"Yes, Mark. And we're keeping it. And we're not getting married, not like that." Kate rushed on before they could interrupt. "But we need a solution. A way to give this baby a stable, legitimate start without Mark and me ruining our lives and our relationship by rushing into a marriage for all the wrong reasons."
Ian leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Katie, I love you, but I'm not following. What does this have to do with me and Dean and…" he gestured to Jenny, "your roommate?"
Jenny spoke for the first time. Her voice was quieter than Kate's, but it cut through the coffee shop noise. "A proposed strategic alliance. You marry me. Publicly. We present a united front. The baby is born into a stable, two-parent home. Your family stops pressuring you about your love life and an heir. Kate gets the structure she needs without the pressure of a forced marriage to Mark. After a few years, when the child is established and you've secured your position within your family, we amicably divorce."
She laid it out like a business proposal. Clean. Precise.
Dean made a sound halfway between a laugh and a choke. "You're kidding."
Ian was staring at Jenny as if seeing her for the first time. "You're serious."
"It's a solution that addresses multiple problems with one legal action," Jenny said, meeting his gaze. She willed her hands not to shake around her paper cup.
"And what do you get out of this… alliance?" Ian asked, his tone shifting from shocked to analytical.
"Security," she answered honestly. "A home after graduation. A role. A reason."
"You'd be giving up your youth. Your chance at a real relationship," Dean said sharply, his possessiveness clear.
"I'm not interested in a real relationship," Jenny said, and it was the truest thing she'd said all night. "I'm interested in safety. In building something that can't be taken away because of someone else's guilt or resentment."
The raw honesty of it silenced them all. Ian looked from Jenny's determined face to Kate's pleading one.
"My family…" he began.
"Would approve," Kate finished. "Jenny's smart, she's poised, she's got a scholarship. She looks the part. They'd think you finally settled down with a nice, quiet girl. They'd be so relieved, they wouldn't look too closely."
"And us?" Dean asked, his voice tight. "Where do I fit into this little play?"
Ian reached under the table, taking Dean's hand. "You're my life. That doesn't change. This would be… a front. For family events, for public consumption. In private, nothing changes."
"Everything changes!" Dean hissed, pulling his hand away. "You'd have a wife. You'd live with her. You'd have a child in your house. That's not nothing, Ian!"
"The child would be mine and Kate's," Jenny interjected calmly. "In the legal sense only. I would be the primary caregiver. You and Ian would have your own space, your own life. I would not interfere."
"You'd be a glorified nanny," Dean snapped.
"Yes," Jenny agreed, unfazed. "That's essentially the job description. Nanny, house manager, and public relations representative."
Her complete lack of ego about the arrangement seemed to disarm them further. Ian was watching her with something like fascination.
"We'd need a contract," he said slowly. "A legally binding agreement. Terms, conditions, an exit strategy."
Hope, fragile and terrifying, bloomed in Jenny's chest. "Of course."
"Ian, you can't be considering this," Dean pleaded.
"What's the alternative, Dean?" Ian's voice was tired. "I watch my favorite cousin become a social pariah? I go to another family dinner where my mother cries about dying without grandchildren? I live in hiding?" He looked back at Jenny. "You'd really do this? Live a separate life under the same roof? Raise a child that isn't yours?"
"I told you," Jenny said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm good at being separate."
Something in her tone, the bone-deep truth of that isolation, finally convinced him. He nodded, once.
"We draw up the contract. We all sign it. We set a timeline—four years, maybe five, until the child is in school. Then we review. We part as friends, with no messy divorces, no fighting. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Jenny said.
Kate let out a sob of relief, covering her face with her hands.
Dean stood up abruptly, his chair screeching. "I need air." He stormed out of the coffee shop.
Ian watched him go, pain in his eyes. He looked back at the two women. "He'll come around. Or he won't. But the deal stands." He extended a hand across the table to Jenny. "Partners?"
She took it. His grip was firm, warm. "Partners."
It was a handshake that felt like signing a fate. Not a romantic union, but a pact. A merger of desperate needs.
As they left the coffee shop, the night air cool on her face, Jenny felt the final piece of her old identity slough away. Jenny Thomas, the orphaned student, was gone.
In her place was Jenny Carter-to-be. The wife in waiting. The mother-to-be of a child not her own.
The architect of her own cage had just drawn the first line.