They met over a gold-plated steak and mutual delusion.

Brine—forearm glistening, lips pursed like a dehydrated duck—was mid-sprinkle when Marla Sparkle floated into the Dubai branch of Chez Brine, carried in on a chaise lounge of self-importance. Their eyes met across a table of fools.

“You’re… authentic,” she murmured, not noticing he was miming his own reflection in a steak knife.

“You’re… noble,” he replied, though he wasn’t sure if she still counted.

They were married three days later on a yacht shaped like a dollar sign. A media mogul officiated via hologram. Her ginger ex sent a cactus and a note: “Thank you for removing this burden.” A royal ghost briefly flickered in the sky, sighed, and vanished.

Their honeymoon was in an infinity pool filled with kombucha and crocodile tears. Marla launched a podcast from the pool titled “From Suits to Sizzle: My Journey Through the Unseasoned.” Brine filmed TikToks of himself lovingly salting her elbow.

The union was a spiritual vortex: she gave speeches on empowerment while he choreographed beef dances. Together, they launched a wellness brand called “Searenity” that offered gold-dusted tofu and “emotional seasoning kits.” One particularly cursed product—Feminist Himalayan Brine Crystals—was banned by three countries and PETA.

Trouble brewed. Marla insisted he stop salting things without consent. He refused unless spoken to exclusively in hashtags. Arguments ensued, involving passive-aggressive wellness mantras and threatened documentaries.

Things collapsed spectacularly during a streaming special, “The Roast of Sussex & Sizzle,” in which Brine attempted to flambé a vegan biryani. The fire brigade arrived. Marla cried in lowercase on social media.

They divorced live on The View. Marla left in search of a role as “Her Grace” in a Danish soap opera. Brine retreated to a cave in Istanbul, where he sprinkles salt onto old press clippings and whispers, “Still viral… still viral…”

The world, thankfully, moved on.