Her family remained skeptical.
« Angela, seriously? He’s homeless. He has nothing to offer you, » said her best friend Kendra.
Her mother, Gloria, added,
« Darling, don’t ruin your future for a man who doesn’t even own a clean shirt. »
But Angela remained steadfast. She believed in Malick.
On her wedding day, Angela was radiant in her simple yet sublime white dress. When Malick entered, murmurs arose. His suit looked secondhand, his shoes worn. Suppressed laughter, mocking glances… But Angela’s eyes never left his.
During the New Year’s greetings, Malick’s hands trembled as he took the microphone.
« I know many of you are wondering why a man like me is standing here beside Angela, » he began.
« You see me as a vagabond with no future. But you’re wrong. »
Silence fell in the room. Angela frowned, intrigued.
“The truth,” Malick continued, “is that I was living a deceptive life. The beard, the clothes, even my limp—it was all part of a role. I wanted to know if someone could love me for who I am, not for what I own. For ten years now… I’ve been a millionaire.”
A murmur of astonishment rippled through the room. Angela stared blankly ahead—she didn’t know either.
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