At thirty-six, I married a homeless woman who later gave me two children — until one day, three luxury cars pulled up and exposed who she truly was, leaving everyone in town speechless. When I turned thirty-six, the neighbors would whisper, “At his age and still single? Guess he’s destined to di:e alone.” It wasn’t that I’d never dated — I had. But somehow, none of those relationships lasted. Over time, I grew used to solitude, spending my days tending my small backyard garden, feeding my chicke