The rage filled my stomach, making me want to tear at my hair. I couldn’t believe his persistence, his enduring arrogance. Rami stood before me in that immaculate suit, looking dapper and charming in my sad little classroom.

He was telling me about this bet he’d had with his friend. A bet that said he could get anyone to fall in love with him. Even an American, he said. But I’d been too tough for him. I’d been “the wrong woman” for the kind of bet he was up against. But he was too proud, and he wasn’t willing to go down without a fight. Even if that meant including me.

“All right,” I told him, when he asked if I’d let him have five more minutes. I had nothing else to lose. The call from my father that morning had been tearful, heart-wrenching. Again, the students had crowded around my desk, patting my arms and asking me what was wrong. What could they do? They were children. They couldn’t help me. But they were trying their best to comfort me, if nothing else.

“Okay. I need to win this bet. And in order to win it, I have to make you fall in love with me. Essentially, that means you have to marry me,” Rami said to me, saying the words with such certainty, as if I would just buy into something so serious so quickly. What a joke.

“Marriage?” I asked, aghast. “I mean, what makes you think I would—”

“I know. I know it’s a big thing to ask anyone,” Rami said, doing his best to calm me. “But as I told you, I am extremely wealthy. And foolhardy, as you already know.”

“Something like that, although I might choose a different word,” I told him, my eyes glittering.

“Sure. I’d wager that. But listen. I’d be willing to give you half a million dollars for your trouble, ensuring that we both benefit from the arrangement. If you agree to it, that is.”

My heart thudded in my chest. Half a million dollars? Was he kidding? I hadn’t even heard of that sum of money being together in one place.

I pictured Rami’s bank account as a giant ocean, swimming with cash. I wanted to leap into it, to throw it over my body. I wanted to take it home. Were people really ever that comfortable? Did people really sleep at night without the shadow of whatever they needed to pay for on their shoulders?

“Wait. Say that number again?” I asked him in disbelief.

“Five hundred thousand smackeroos,” Rami said, using an American word and chuckling at his cleverness. “What do you think?”

During these silent seconds, I thought instantly of my mother, and the surgery she so desperately needed. Five hundred thousand dollars was more than I would make in ten years. And by then, my mother probably wouldn’t even be around anymore.

I swallowed harshly, wondering at the weight of what I had to give up, versus what I would be giving up if I didn’t go through with it.

“I can tell you’re considering it,” Rami said, his eyebrow twitching.

“Well, of course I’m considering it.”

I leaned against my desk, wondering at this predicament. If I agreed to it, I knew I would have to legally marry Rami. Which meant that I’d have to spend a bit of time with him, at the least. Ensuring that the marriage looked “right” for his friend, the one he’d made the bet with. The thought made my stomach stir.

“What would make you accept?” he asked, tilting his head to the right.

I tapped my fingers along the edge of my desk, trying not to look at him too closely. When I did, I was overcome with his outrageous good looks. The refined suit, its fabric thick and unwrinkled. His five o’clock shadow, which yielded a perfect texture across his brown skin. I’d known since moving to Al-Jarra that the men in this country were almost unfairly handsome, but he took the cake.

“I’ll give you some money upfront,” he said suddenly, his voice deepening.

“How much?” I asked.

“Ten thousand,” he said, stepping forward. His eyes met with mine, bringing a shot of emotion up and down my spine. “It’ll go into your account today, if you give me your details.”

“Ten thousand dollars,” I sighed in disbelief as I wandered toward the window, staring out at the street. Mere blocks away, I could see the market, where we’d eaten together only days before. “I could really use that ten thousand dollars.”

“And don’t forget, my net worth is in the billions…” he said, trailing off. His words sizzled with arrogance.

I flashed around, spinning back to face him. Without hesitation, I lifted my hand and reached for his. We shook on it, just like that, over the top of the desks between us. Instantly I felt grimy. But I felt that I was on a path toward saving my mother’s life.

“All right. Well. I guess I’ll send you some details…” Rami said, stepping back. His expensive shoe clacked on the floor. “Maybe that means I should get your number.”

“Right. Yes. Phone.” I lifted a pad of paper from my desk and wrote it out in scrawling handwriting, passing it toward him. “I’m not sure how all of this will work.”

“You can leave it up to me,” Rami said, giving me a wink that made my stomach stir. “But know that we’re going to have to see each other a bit more. My friend Alim will know something’s wrong if—”

“If we just get hitched, like that. I know,” I sighed, feeling the heaviness in my heart. I wanted to go lie down, but I knew I couldn’t. I was trapped.

“Right. Well, as long as you get it. You seem like a clever girl,” Rami said. He turned back toward the classroom door, giving me a salute. “I suppose I should start calling you a pet name, now. Angie-bear?”

“Don’t push it,” I said, finding a smile rush between my cheeks.

Moments later, he was gone, and I collapsed in the chair behind my desk, allowing my forehead to fall toward my hands. I heard the clatter of feet at the door and looked up, finding Rita there, watching me. She sniffed, narrowing her eyes behind her glasses.

“That man was here again,” she said brashly.

“He was,” I replied, suddenly wanting to put as much distance between us as possible.

“Have you dated much in Al-Jarra?” she asked me, leaning further into my classroom. Her hair was frizzy, swirling toward her shoulders. “Because the culture, it’s completely different. You’re going to want to be aware…”

“It’s not really… I mean, we’re not really dating,” I told her, knowing full well that I would have to come clean about the engagement very soon. “He’s just a guy.”

“They always start out as just guys,” Rita told me, “until suddenly…”

“I’d better get going for the day, Rita,” I sighed, dragging myself up from the desk and pushing past her into the corridor. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Just let me know if anything’s wrong,” Rita told me, calling down the hall. “You know I’m here for you.”

But I couldn’t even tell her what was going on with my family. I couldn’t bring any of the worlds together in my mind.

I blasted out into the sunshine and raced around the corner, finding the path toward my apartment. When I couldn’t sprint any longer, I placed my hands on my knees and let myself fall to the ground. When I caught my breath, I realized I had a text message from Rami.

“Let me know your bank details when you can,” it read. “And thanks for doing me this huge favor. You don’t know how much grief I’d get from Alim if I lost you.”

If he lost me. The words echoed through my brain. There was nothing between us to lose. And yet, in his little world, without cancer and without tumors and without oceans between him and his family, he was allowed to worry about such drivel. What a scandal. How stupid.

And here I was, at the center of it all.