Married to The Alien Chef

© Luciana Rielle 2026. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the author’s written permission.

MINA

“Hey, yeah, I’m talking to you. The one watching me right now. Have you ever been told you’ll never have a child?”

My ears perked up at the words, but I didn’t look up from my laptop screen. Blank. Mocking me. Probably wondering why the hell I hadn’t written a single word yet.

And if I didn’t have this in Anita’s inbox by next week, she was going to be all over me. The deadline was barreling toward me, and I had nothing.

You might think I was dealing with writer’s block, but no. I’d faced writer’s block plenty of times before. This was different. I knew what I wanted to write—the ideas were there, clear as day in my head—but every time I tried to put them into words, my heart pounded like I was about to step off a cliff.

The woman on the screen continued, her voice smooth and persuasive.

“Maybe you’ve tried everything. Maybe the doctors told you it’s impossible. But what if they were wrong? What if there was another way?”

That got my attention.

I looked up from the laptop at the beautifully dressed blonde on the screen, her warm smile and golden eyes practically glowing. She was definitely a…..what do they call them now? Not an “alien”…no one uses that word anymore. “Exo,” maybe? Or was “Celestial” the polite term these days?

Her smile was inviting, but her words… oh, her words annoyed me. Here we go again. Another too-good-to-be-true scam.

I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. Any second now, she was going to drop some life-changing revelation. Something about finally making the impossible, possible.

“At the Intergalactic Fertility Program, we’ve made the impossible possible. With years of research, we’ve discovered that certain alien DNA can bypass human infertility, giving hope to those who thought they’d never have a family.”

Bingo

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. Right on cue. The ads always made it sound so simple, like flipping a switch and..bam! miracle baby. As if I hadn’t spent years being poked, prodded, and handed the same clinical sympathy over and over again.

But still, I didn’t look away.

The blonde, Celestial, Exo, whichever species she was, leaned closer to that screen. “Our program is government-approved and backed by top scientists from across the galaxy. And the best part?” She leaned in, lowering her voice like she was about to share a secret. “You’re not just picking genetics from a catalog. You get a partner. Someone real. Someone who wants this as much as you do.”

I frowned. A partner?

“Through our exclusive intergalactic matchmaking system, we don’t just pair you with any donor. We find the perfect match, someone genetically compatible and committed to the process. And for the best results, all we ask is a simple, temporary two-year union. A guaranteed pathway to parenthood, with a built-in safety net for both parties.”

My mouth went dry. Did she just say… marriage?

I reached for the remote, turning the volume up.

The screen cut to sleek images of happy couples, human women smiling up at their massive, otherworldly partners. Families. Babies. It was all so perfectly curated, designed to tug at the heartstrings of anyone who had ever been told they’d never be a mother.

I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingers to my temples.

This was ridiculous. Absolutely insane.

And yet…

My cursor blinked on the empty page. The silence of my apartment stretched around me, pressing down like a lead. Friends? All busy with their own families. Work? My stories used to be my escape, but lately, I felt like I was just going through the motions. And love? That ship had sunk a long time ago.

I wasn’t getting any younger.

I wasn’t getting any less lonely, either.

My stomach twisted as I stared at the words flashing on the screen.

Find out if you’re a match. Apply today.

I was probably going to regret this.

But my fingers were already moving, clicking the link before I could stop myself.

****

“You’re going to what?! Have you lost your damn mind, Amina Milo?”

Bianca’s voice was way too loud for the restaurant, drawing stares from nearby tables. I pulled my mouth off the straw, cleared my throat awkwardly, and forced a smile at the nosy onlookers. Nothing to see here, folks. Just two best friends having a totally normal conversation.

Then I turned to Bianca. “Would you lower your voice? Do you want them to kick us out because of your loud mouth?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. They wouldn’t dare kick out their favorite customer.”

I sighed. “I am not their favorite customer, and that doesn’t give you the right to scream in public.”

She took a dramatic sip of her cranberry juice, still rolling her eyes. “Then why is your picture on their wall right over there?”

I glanced at the framed photo of me near the register and bit my lip.

Bianca smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

I shook my head, pressing my lips together. “Can we focus here?”

“Fine.” She leaned forward. “But seriously, Mina. I wanted you to loosen up, not fall for some scam targeting desperate people.”

I sighed, tapping my fingers on the table. “I looked into the program, Bianca. It’s real. And they don’t even ask for money.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah? Then what do they ask for?”

I gulped.

She crossed her arms. “Minaaa… what have you done?”

I cleared my throat. “Shhh. It’s… just a two-year marriage with the donor.”

Bianca’s jaw dropped.

I gestured frantically for her to keep her voice down.

She looked around at the people still sneaking glances at us. Then she leaned in, whispering sharply. “What. The. Hell?”

I said nothing.

She exhaled, shaking her head. “Okay, well, obviously you’re not actually going through with it. No way in—”

“I already signed up.”

Her mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You? Marriage?”

I just smiled.

She stared at me like I’d grown two heads.

Oh yeah. This was not going to go well.