Updated Oct 23, 2025 • ~10 min read
SEB’S POV
The immigration interview was scheduled for a Tuesday morning at nine AM.
I’d barely slept the night before, running through potential questions, memorizing details about Lina’s life like I was cramming for an exam. Which, in a way, I was.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Lina said, watching me pace our bedroom.
“They’re going to ask us everything. Where we met. When we knew we were in love. What side of the bed you sleep on.”
“Left side. You sleep on the right. We both know this.” She stood, straightening my tie. “Seb, we’ve been living together for four months. We know each other. This isn’t fake anymore, remember?”
“I know. But what if they ask about the beginning? About why we got married so fast?”
“Then we tell them the truth. That we fell hard and fast and couldn’t imagine waiting.” Her hands smoothed down my lapels. “Which is true. Just… compressed timeline.”
“Compressed timeline. Right.” I took a breath. “What if they separate us? Ask questions independently?”
“Then we give the same answers. Because we know each other, Seb. We’ve got this.”
Isabella appeared in the doorway, already dressed. “The car is here. Are you ready?”
No. Absolutely not.
“Yes,” I said.
LINA’S POV
The immigration office was exactly as depressing as I’d imagined.
Gray walls. Fluorescent lighting. People sitting in plastic chairs looking nervous or bored or both. Seb held my hand so tight I could feel his pulse.
“Santoro?” A officer called. “Sebastian and Lina Santoro?”
We stood. Isabella squeezed my shoulder.
“You’ll be fine,” she whispered. “Just be yourselves.”
Officer Callum Rivers led us down a hallway into a small interview room. Two chairs facing a desk. A file—our file—sitting ominously in front of him.
“Please, sit.”
We sat. Seb’s hand found mine under the table.
“I’m going to ask you some questions about your relationship,” Rivers said. “Some separately, some together. The purpose is to verify the legitimacy of your marriage. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” we said in unison.
“Good. Let’s start with the basics. How did you meet?”
“Through a mutual friend,” I said. “At a coffee shop in Manhattan.”
“Which coffee shop?”
“The Corner Bean,” Seb said. “On 5th and Madison.”
“What was the date?”
“June third,” I said. “A Thursday.”
Rivers made notes. “And you got married when?”
“September fifteenth,” Seb said. “Three and a half months later.”
“That’s quite fast.”
“When you know, you know,” I said.
“Do you?” Rivers looked at me. “Mrs. Santoro, what’s your husband’s favorite food?”
“Osso buco. His mother makes it.” I smiled. “Though he pretends to like my cooking just as much, even though I burn everything.”
“Mr. Santoro, what’s your wife’s biggest fear?”
Seb didn’t hesitate. “Failing. At anything. She’s terrified of not being enough.”
My breath caught. He was right.
“Mrs. Santoro, does your husband have any siblings?”
“One brother. Declan. He lives in Milan and calls at the worst possible times because he forgets about time zones.”
Rivers smiled slightly. “Mr. Santoro, your wife is pregnant. Is the child yours?”
Here it was.
“Biologically? No,” Seb said calmly. “But in every way that matters? Yes. That’s my child.”
“Explain.”
“Lina was briefly involved with someone before we got together. When she found out she was pregnant, I was already in love with her. The biological father has some involvement, but I’m raising this baby with Lina. As a family.”
“And you’re comfortable with that arrangement?”
“More than comfortable. It’s what I want.”
Rivers turned to me. “Mrs. Santoro, some might say this arrangement is convenient. Your husband needs a green card. You needed financial stability. A baby provides additional evidence of a legitimate relationship.”
My stomach dropped. “That’s not—”
“We’re not using the baby as evidence,” Seb cut in. “The baby existed before the custody issues. Before any of this became complicated.”
“But convenient nonetheless.”
“Life is complicated,” I said quietly. “Yes, Seb needed to stay in the country. Yes, I needed help. But we fell in love. Real love. The messy, inconvenient kind that makes you rearrange your entire life for someone.”
“How romantic.” Rivers didn’t sound convinced. “Mr. Santoro, I’d like to speak with your wife alone.”
Seb’s hand tightened on mine. “Why?”
“Standard procedure. Please wait outside.”
SEB’S POV
Waiting outside that room was torture.
Isabella sat next to me in the hallway, silent for once. Declan had called twice—I’d ignored him both times. All I could think about was Lina in there alone, fielding questions designed to trap her.
“She’ll be fine,” Mama said quietly.
“How do you know?”
“Because she loves you. And love is very difficult to fake.”
The door opened. Lina emerged, pale but composed. Rivers gestured for me.
“Your turn, Mr. Santoro.”
I squeezed Lina’s hand as we passed. She gave me a small smile, but I could see the fear in her eyes.
Inside, Rivers gestured to the chair Lina had just vacated.
“Your wife is very convincing,” he said.
“She’s not convincing. She’s honest.”
“Is she? Because her story about how you met has some inconsistencies with the timeline on your green card application.”
Ice flooded my veins. “What inconsistencies?”
“Your application states you’ve been in a relationship for six months. But you only got married four months ago. That’s a two-month discrepancy.”
Shit. We’d rounded up, tried to make it look more serious.
“We were together for two months before we got married,” I said. “Six months total now. The application was filed after the wedding.”
“And you decided to marry after two months of dating?”
“Yes.”
“Why so fast?”
“Because I love her. Because waiting seemed pointless when I already knew she was it for me.” I leaned forward. “Officer Rivers, I know how this looks. I know the timeline is fast and the pregnancy complicates things and it all seems too convenient. But I swear to you, on everything I have, that I love my wife. This isn’t fraud. This is my life.”
He studied me for a long moment.
“Your wife said the same thing. Almost word for word.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Or because you rehearsed well.”
“Or because we’re actually married and actually in love and you can’t fake the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention.” My voice cracked slightly. “Please. I’m not asking you to make this easy. I’m just asking you to see what’s real.”
Rivers closed the file.
“I’ve been doing this job for twelve years, Mr. Santoro. I’ve seen every kind of fraud. Couples who barely know each other’s names. People who can’t answer basic questions about their spouse. Marriages that exist only on paper.”
“And?”
“And yours isn’t one of them.” He stood. “I’ll be recommending approval of your green card application. Congratulations.”
LINA’S POV
When Seb walked out of that interview room, I knew immediately.
His face—the relief, the joy, the disbelief—told me everything.
“We passed?” I whispered.
He pulled me into his arms, lifting me off my feet. “We passed.”
Isabella actually squealed. “I told you! I told you it would be fine!”
“We need to celebrate,” Seb said, setting me down but not letting go. “Dinner. Somewhere nice. The three of us.”
“Four of us,” I corrected, touching my stomach.
His face softened. “Four of us.”
We took Isabella to the nicest Italian restaurant in the city. She ordered for all of us in rapid Italian, charming the waiter and insisting we needed the chef’s special everything.
“To my son,” she toasted when the wine—and my sparkling water—arrived. “Who found love in the most unexpected place.”
“To Lina,” Seb countered, looking at me. “Who took a chance on a stranger and changed my entire life.”
“To family,” I said softly. “However we build it.”
We drank, and I felt something settle in my chest. The immigration interview was done. The home study was passed. We were legitimate in the eyes of the law.
Now we just had to figure out how to be a real family.
“When do you find out about the green card?” Isabella asked.
“Could be weeks. Could be months,” Seb said. “But Rivers said he was recommending approval. That’s huge.”
“And the baby? The custody situation?”
“Jasper and I have a meeting next week,” I said. “To finalize the co-parenting agreement. Natalia will be there.”
“He’s being reasonable?”
“Surprisingly yes. I think he realized fighting wasn’t going to work.” I picked at my pasta. “He wants to be involved. Not full custody, but involved.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Mama asked gently.
“I have to be. He’s the biological father. He has rights.” I looked at Seb. “But Seb is this baby’s dad. In every way that counts.”
“Damn right I am,” Seb said, taking my hand.
Isabella watched us with satisfaction. “You two are good together. I wasn’t sure at first—everything was so fast, so complicated. But I see it now.”
“See what?” I asked.
“The way you fit. Like puzzle pieces that didn’t know they belonged together until they tried.” She smiled. “Your father and I were like that. Everyone said we were too different. Too fast. Too young. But we worked because we chose each other. Every single day, we chose each other.”
“How did you keep choosing?” Seb asked quietly. “When things got hard?”
“We remembered why we started. The feeling of finding home in another person.” She looked between us. “You have that. Don’t lose it in the chaos of babies and custody and daily life. Hold onto that feeling.”
After dinner, we walked through the city. Isabella had flown out tomorrow, and I think we were all trying to stretch the evening as long as possible.
“I’m going to miss you,” I told her as we walked.
“I’ll be back. For the birth. And many times after.” She linked her arm through mine. “You’re family now, Lina. That means you’re stuck with me.”
“I can live with that.”
Back at the apartment, Isabella hugged us both.
“Take care of each other,” she said. “And call me. About everything. The nursery, the baby, all of it.”
“We will, Mama,” Seb promised.
After she went to bed, Seb and I stood on the balcony, looking out at the city.
“We did it,” I said. “We actually did it.”
“Never doubted us for a second.”
“Liar. You were pacing our bedroom this morning.”
“Okay, I doubted us for several seconds. But we proved me wrong.” He pulled me close. “What now?”
“Now we prepare for the baby. Set up the nursery. Figure out life.”
“Life with you sounds good.”
“Even when I’m huge and hormonal and can’t see my feet?”
“Especially then.” He kissed my forehead. “Lina, I know this started as something else. But standing here now, I can’t imagine it any other way.”
“Me neither.”
We stayed like that, wrapped in each other, until the city lights blurred and all that mattered was this—us, together, building something real from something that started as pretend.
And in the morning, Isabella would leave.
And next week, I’d meet with Jasper.
And in six months, we’d have a baby.
But tonight, we had this moment.
And it was enough.
Reader Reactions