Emma's Pov

I stood in front of Sophie’s full-length mirror, tugging at the hem of my emerald green blouse for the tenth time. The color was supposed to make me feel confident—bold, even—but tonight it just felt like armor I wasn’t sure I could carry. Two weeks had passed since the bridal shower disaster, and the viral videos had finally slowed to a trickle. Still, every notification on my newly reinstalled social media apps made my stomach twist. Comments calling me “demanding,” “unstable,” or worse still haunted my quiet moments.

“You look amazing,” Sophie said from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a glass of wine in hand. “Green is your power color. And it’s just Ethan’s place—low-key, good food, people who actually love you. No pressure.”

I forced a smile, but my hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the silver necklace I’d chosen to replace the one Ryan had given me. “Low-key until it isn’t. Ethan promised it would be small. Family, a few close friends. But what if someone brings up the shower? What if they look at me like I’m the crazy ex?”

Sophie set her wine down and crossed the room, pulling me into a quick hug. Her vanilla scent was familiar and comforting. “Then you hold your head high. You didn’t cheat. You didn’t lie for a year. Ryan did. Tonight is about Ethan turning thirty-two, not your ex’s ego. You’ve got this.”

I nodded, repeating her words like a mantra as I grabbed my purse. The drive to Ethan’s new apartment downtown felt both too short and endless. Streetlights blurred past, and I drummed my fingers on my knee, replaying memories of family dinners before everything imploded. Ethan had always been the steady one—our parents’ divorce had hit him harder in some ways, but he’d channeled it into building his construction business. He deserved a nice birthday without my drama overshadowing it.

Ethan’s building had a sleek lobby with marble floors that clicked under my heels. I took the elevator up, heart beating faster with each floor. When the doors opened, I could already hear laughter spilling from his door at the end of the hall. I paused outside, smoothing my blouse one last time, then knocked.

Ethan answered almost immediately, his face lighting up with that big-brother grin that always made me feel safer. He pulled me into a tight hug, his cedarwood cologne wrapping around me. “You came. I’m glad, Em. Really.”

“Happy birthday,” I said, squeezing him back before stepping inside. The apartment smelled like garlic bread and herbs—Ethan had clearly gone all out with catering. String lights hung across the living room, casting a warm glow over the dozen or so guests mingling with drinks in hand. A long table was set with plates and bottles of wine. It looked... normal. Safe.

Sophie had arrived earlier and waved from across the room, chatting with one of Ethan’s college buddies. A few cousins were there, plus some business associates. I spotted Lucas Bennett near the kitchen island, pouring himself a drink. Ethan’s best friend since they were kids, Lucas was the quiet, successful type—always in tailored shirts, always observing more than he spoke. We’d spent years trading sarcastic jabs at family gatherings, but tonight his presence felt steady rather than annoying. He caught my eye and gave a small nod, almost like he knew how hard this was for me.

I made my way through greetings, accepting hugs and “how are you holding up?” questions with practiced smiles. “Better every day,” I lied to my aunt, who patted my arm sympathetically. Inside, my nerves were frayed wire. Every laugh felt too loud, every glance too probing. I kept one eye on the door, half-expecting disaster.

Ethan pulled me aside after I’d grabbed a glass of red wine. “You really do look good. Proud of you for showing up.” His voice dropped. “Ryan texted yesterday about some business overlap on that new development project. I told him not to come, but... work stuff. I made it clear it’s my night.”

I tensed but nodded. “It’s fine. I can handle it if he shows. Briefly.”

We joined the group, and for a while, it worked. Conversation flowed around renovations, travel stories, and light teasing about Ethan’s terrible cooking skills. Lucas ended up next to me at one point, handing me a fresh napkin when I spilled a drop of wine.

“Nice save,” I said, trying for witty. “Didn’t know you moonlighted as a butler.”

His mouth quirked in that half-smile I remembered from years of barbecues. “Only for people who look like they’re one awkward question away from bolting. You okay, Emma?”

The genuine concern in his deep voice caught me off guard. Lucas had always been Ethan’s reliable shadow—successful in business, reserved in personal matters. We’d never been close, mostly because I teased him about being too serious and he’d fire back about my “chaos energy.” Tonight, though, his calm felt like an anchor.

“I’m managing,” I replied honestly, swirling my wine. “One dinner at a time.”

He nodded, not pushing. “Good. Ethan’s been worried. We both have.”

Before I could respond, the door opened again. Ethan’s voice boomed a welcome, but my blood ran cold as I turned.

Ryan stepped inside, looking effortlessly put-together in a crisp button-down and slacks, his hair styled just so. And on his arm—Sarah. She wore a sleek black dress, her hand resting possessively on his bicep. They smiled at Ethan like this was completely normal.

The room didn’t exactly go silent, but the energy shifted. Conversations stuttered. Eyes flicked toward me. My grip tightened on my wine glass until I thought the stem might snap.

“What is he doing here?” I whispered under my breath, but Lucas heard.

Ethan looked apologetic as he approached them, clapping Ryan on the shoulder stiffly. “Didn’t expect you tonight, man. Business talk could’ve waited.”

Ryan shrugged, his charming smile sliding into place—the same one that had won over everyone at the shower. “Couldn’t miss your birthday, Ethan. Plus, the project deadline’s tight. Brought Sarah along—she’s been helping with the marketing angles.”

Sarah offered a small wave, her eyes avoiding mine. The same eyes that had looked at me with pity that awful day.

I felt exposed, raw. My cheeks burned as memories flooded back: Ryan’s hands on her face, his calm voice blaming me in front of strangers. Now here they were, parading their new reality at my brother’s dinner like I didn’t exist. Like my heartbreak was yesterday’s news.

Sophie materialized at my side, whispering, “We can leave. Say you’re not feeling well.”

I shook my head, forcing my spine straight. “No. I’m not running. Not anymore.”

Dinner was announced, and we moved to the table. Seats had been arranged casually, but somehow Ryan and Sarah ended up across from me. I sat between Ethan and Lucas, grateful for the buffer. Plates of roasted chicken, vegetables, and pasta were passed around. Laughter tried to resume, but it felt strained, like everyone was walking on eggshells.

Ryan caught my eye midway through the meal. “Emma. You look well. Glad you could make it.”

The audacity. I stabbed a piece of chicken harder than necessary. “Couldn’t miss my brother’s birthday.”

Sarah shifted uncomfortably, focusing on her plate. Conversations picked up in pockets—work talk, travel plans—but I felt the weight of unspoken questions. A cousin asked me about wedding plans before catching herself and turning bright red. “Sorry, I mean...”

“It’s fine,” I said tightly, taking a long sip of wine. The liquid warmed my throat but did nothing for the knot in my stomach.

Ryan leaned forward, voice carrying just enough. “These things happen. Breakups are hard, but life moves on. Sarah and I are exploring what’s next. No hard feelings, right, Em?”

Hard feelings? I wanted to throw my plate at him. The casual way he said it, like my four years of love were a minor inconvenience. The table quieted again. Phones stayed in pockets, but I could feel the tension building, the potential for another viral moment.

Lucas’s hand brushed mine under the table—accidental, I thought, but it steadied me. His voice was low when he spoke. “Not the time or place, Ryan.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, that victim smile creeping back. “Just being honest. Emma wanted everything perfect. The big wedding, the future mapped out. Sometimes that pressure... well, you know.”

My vision tunneled. The humiliation from the shower crashed back—the recordings, the comments calling me demanding, the way the world had sided with his narrative. Here he was, rewriting it again in front of people who mattered. Sarah placed a hand on his arm, a silent show of support that made bile rise in my throat.

I set my fork down with a clink, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Blood rushed to my face. Everyone was watching. Ethan looked ready to intervene. Lucas’s posture had gone rigid beside me.

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, impulsive and desperate, born from weeks of pain and the need to reclaim some control.

“Actually...” My voice wavered but grew stronger. I glanced around the table, landing briefly on Lucas before the lie solidified. “I’m seeing someone.”

The table went dead silent. Forks paused mid-air. Ryan’s charming mask cracked for a split second, surprise flashing in his eyes.

I swallowed hard, the cliff edge rushing up. What had I just done?

Emma's Pov

The words still echoed in my ears: “Actually... I’m seeing someone.”

My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape. The entire table at Ethan’s birthday dinner had gone pin-drop silent. Forks hovered mid-air. Wine glasses froze halfway to lips. Ryan stared at me from across the table, his charming mask cracking into pure disbelief, while Sarah’s hand tightened on his arm like she was staking a claim. Ethan’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. Sophie’s mouth formed a perfect “O” from her seat a few chairs down.

I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. The lie had exploded out of me in a desperate bid to shut down Ryan’s smug rewriting of our history, but now it hung there, alive and dangerous, demanding details I didn’t have.

My aunt recovered first, clapping her hands together with genuine delight that only made my stomach twist harder. “Emma, honey! That’s the best news I’ve heard all night! Who is he? Come on, don’t leave us hanging—who’s the lucky man sweeping you off your feet so soon?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I could feel the blush spreading down my neck, clashing horribly with my emerald green blouse. My palms were slick with sweat as I gripped the edge of the tablecloth. Every eye in the room bored into me. Ryan leaned forward slightly, that skeptical smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, Em. Spill it. After everything, you’ve already moved on? Must be someone special.”

The sarcasm in his voice made my blood boil. Special? After he’d paraded Sarah here like our four years meant nothing? I opened my mouth, my mind scrambling for any name—any safe, believable person—but nothing came. Coworkers? Too risky. Old friends? They’d know it was fake immediately. The pressure built, my throat tightening, the string lights overhead suddenly too bright, the scent of roasted chicken and herbs turning cloying.

Without thinking, the name slipped out.

“Lucas Bennett.”

Silence crashed over the room like a wave. Complete, heavy silence. No one moved. My aunt’s smile froze. Ethan choked on the sip of water he’d just taken, coughing into his napkin. Sophie’s eyes went wide as saucers. Ryan’s face drained of color, then flushed with something ugly—shock mixed with irritation. Sarah shifted uncomfortably, glancing between us.

“Lucas?” Ryan finally echoed, his voice sharp. “As in, your brother’s best friend Lucas? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I sat there, frozen, the full horror sinking in. What had I done? Lucas and I had never been anything but sarcastic acquaintances at family gatherings. We argued about everything from politics to the best way to grill burgers. He was the quiet, successful businessman who always seemed above the chaos. And now I’d thrown his name into the fire without warning. My chest ached with regret and panic. I could already imagine the questions, the disbelief, the way this lie would unravel and humiliate me even more.

Ethan set his glass down hard enough to make the silverware rattle. “Emma... Lucas? When did this—?”

Before he could finish, the front door to the apartment clicked open.

We all turned as one. Lucas Bennett stepped through the threshold, wiping his shoes on the mat, a bottle of wine in one hand and his keys in the other. He looked effortlessly put-together in a crisp navy button-down and dark jeans, his dark hair slightly tousled from the evening breeze outside. He paused just inside the doorway, sensing the thick tension immediately, his sharp eyes scanning the table.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he started, his deep voice cutting through the silence. “Traffic was—uh, everything okay here?”

The timing was so perfect—so absurdly cinematic—that a nervous bubble of laughter almost escaped me. Instead, I sat paralyzed, my face burning hotter. The man I had just named as my fake boyfriend was standing right there, completely unaware that I had dragged him into the center of my personal hurricane.

Ethan cleared his throat. “Lucas. Perfect timing, actually.” His tone was laced with a mix of confusion and reluctant amusement. “Emma was just telling us she’s seeing someone. And that someone... is you.”

Lucas’s gaze snapped to me. For a heartbeat, his expression was blank—processing. Then something shifted. His eyebrows rose slightly, but instead of denial or shock, a slow, subtle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He closed the door behind him with a soft click and walked further into the room, setting the wine bottle on the sideboard.

“Is that so?” he said, his voice calm and even, carrying that quiet confidence I’d always associated with him. He crossed to the table, pulling out the empty chair beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world. As he sat, his knee brushed mine under the table—a brief, steadying contact that sent an unexpected jolt through me.

I held my breath. This was it. He was going to expose the lie. Tell everyone I’d lost my mind. But he didn’t. Instead, he reached over and took my hand in his, interlacing our fingers on top of the table where everyone could see. His palm was warm, his grip firm but gentle, calluses from who-knew-what business projects brushing against my skin. It felt grounding. Real. Far too real for a split-second decision.

“She’s telling the truth,” Lucas said simply, meeting my eyes for a moment before addressing the table. His thumb traced a small, soothing circle on the back of my hand. “It’s new. We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, especially after... recent events. But yeah. We’re together.”

The room exploded back to life.

My aunt beamed. “I always knew there was something between you two! The way you bicker at barbecues—it was foreplay, wasn’t it?”

A cousin laughed. “This is gold. Lucas Bennett finally off the market? Emma, you work fast!”

Questions flew at us from every direction. How long? When did it start? Did Ethan know? I fumbled through vague answers—“a few weeks,” “it just happened naturally”—my voice shaky but gaining strength as Lucas squeezed my hand supportively. He fielded some too, his responses smooth and minimal, that half-smile never quite leaving his face.

Ryan looked like he’d bitten into something sour. He forced a chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes. “Wow. Didn’t see that pairing coming. Lucas, man, good luck with her... expectations.” The jab was subtle but landed like a slap. Sarah murmured something to him, her gaze flicking to our joined hands with clear discomfort.

I wanted to snap back, but Lucas’s calm presence kept me anchored. “We’re figuring it out,” he replied evenly to Ryan, no edge in his voice, just quiet certainty. “Some things are worth the effort.”

Under the table, my free hand trembled in my lap. The lie was spinning faster than I could control. Lucas’s touch—his fingers warm and steady—felt like the only solid thing in the whirlwind. I stole glances at him, trying to read his expression. Why was he doing this? Going along with my impulsive chaos without missing a beat?

Dessert arrived—chocolate cake for Ethan’s birthday—but the energy had shifted entirely to us. I barely tasted the rich frosting, too aware of Lucas’s shoulder brushing mine, the subtle woodsy scent of his cologne, the way he passed me the serving spoon first like we’d done this a hundred times. Every small action sold the story. My heart raced with a confusing mix of relief, guilt, and something warmer I didn’t want to examine.

After plates were cleared, guests began mingling. Ryan and Sarah made a quick exit, Ryan muttering about an early morning. As they left, he shot me one last look—part surprise, part bruised pride. “Take care, Em. Lucas.”

The door closed behind them. I exhaled shakily, some of the tension draining from my shoulders. Ethan wasted no time pulling Lucas and me into the kitchen while Sophie distracted the remaining guests. He crossed his arms, looking between us with a raised eyebrow.

“Alright. Explain. Now. Emma, you drop Lucas’s name and suddenly you’re holding hands? Lucas, you just roll with it?”

I rubbed my temples, the panic returning full force. “It slipped out. Ryan was being... Ryan. Blaming me again, making it sound like I drove him to cheat with all my ‘demanding’ ways. I panicked. Lucas, I am so sorry. I didn’t plan this. You can tell them it was a joke. I’ll fix it.”

Lucas leaned against the counter, slipping his hands into his pockets. He didn’t look angry. If anything, he seemed quietly amused, his dark eyes studying me with that thoughtful intensity I remembered from years of family events. “I could have. But I didn’t want to. Not after seeing the look on your face when he walked in with her.”

Ethan ran a hand through his hair. “This is messy. You two have never even gone on a date. What happens when people expect couple stuff? Family barbecues? Photos?”

Lucas glanced at me, then back at Ethan. “We talk boundaries. Keep it simple for a bit. My parents have been hounding me about settling down anyway—work’s consumed everything. This could buy some peace on both sides. Three months, maybe. Until the gossip fades and things settle.”

I stared at him, stunned. He was offering an out. A shield. The biggest lie of my life, and he was volunteering to help carry it. “You’d really do that? For me?”

He shrugged, but his smile was soft. “We’ve known each other long enough. And after tonight... yeah. I’m in if you are.”

Ethan sighed but didn’t argue further. “Just don’t break each other’s hearts. I can’t lose both of you.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of well-wishes and curious goodbyes. “Bring Lucas next time!” my aunt called as she left. I smiled until my cheeks ached, Lucas’s hand occasionally finding mine in natural-looking gestures that made my pulse jump.

Later, on the balcony with Lucas while Ethan and Sophie cleaned up inside, the cool night air brushed my skin. City lights twinkled below. I wrapped my arms around myself, still processing.

“Why?” I asked quietly. “You could’ve walked in and denied everything. Saved yourself the complication.”

Lucas stood beside me at the railing, close enough that our arms brushed. “Because you needed it. And honestly? It’s not entirely inconvenient for me either.” He turned to face me fully. “But we do this right. Talk tomorrow. Boundaries. No one gets hurt.”

I nodded, extending my hand. “Deal. Fake dating... starting now, I guess.”

He shook it, his grip warm and sure, holding on a second longer than necessary. That flutter returned—unwanted, confusing. As we stepped back inside, the weight of the biggest lie settled over me. Everyone believed it now. The silence after I’d said his name had been broken by his perfectly timed entrance, turning my desperation into something that looked real.

Driving home with Sophie later, I stared out the window, replaying every touch, every steady word from Lucas. Relief warred with terror. This lie had saved me tonight, but tomorrow it would demand more. And as I climbed into bed, one thought kept circling: What had I just started with my brother’s best friend?

Emma's pov

Lucas’s words from the doorway still hung in the air as he stepped fully into Ethan’s apartment, bottle of wine in hand. The silence that had followed my blurted “Lucas Bennett” shattered into a new kind of tension. My heart raced so violently I pressed a hand to my chest, willing it to slow. I had just named my brother’s best friend as my secret boyfriend in a desperate bid to wipe the smug look off Ryan’s face, and now the man himself was standing there, taking in the scene with those sharp, observant eyes.

Instead of denying it, instead of laughing it off or asking what the hell I was talking about, Lucas set the wine bottle on the side table with a soft clink. He crossed the room in three unhurried strides, his navy button-down stretching slightly across his shoulders as he moved with that familiar, controlled grace. Without hesitation, he slid onto the chair beside me and wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders, pulling me gently but firmly against his side. The warmth of his body seeped through my emerald blouse, solid and real, carrying that subtle woodsy cologne that somehow cut through the lingering scents of garlic, roasted herbs, and chocolate cake still hanging in the air.

“I was wondering when you’d tell them,” he said, his deep voice calm and laced with just the right amount of affectionate amusement. His fingers rested lightly on my upper arm, thumb tracing a small, absent circle that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”

The table erupted again, but this time with belief. Full, enthusiastic belief.

My aunt clapped her hands, her face lighting up like she’d won the lottery.

“I knew it! The way you two always circled each other at barbecues. It was only a matter of time!”

Ana , my cousin, suddenly leaned forward, grinning widely. “Details! How long? Did Ethan play matchmaker?”

Ryan’s fork clattered against his plate. His charming facade cracked further, surprise flashing into something sharper and uglier. Sarah shifted beside him, her hand tightening on his arm as she forced a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Ethan stared at us, his expression flickering between protective confusion and reluctant acceptance, but he didn’t call us out. Not yet.

I sat frozen under Lucas’s arm, every nerve on fire. His touch was careful,not too possessive, but present enough to sell the story. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing against my side, the faint heat radiating from his chest through his shirt. My mind screamed that this was spiraling out of control, but his solid presence kept me from bolting. How was he so composed? I had thrown him into this chaos the second he walked through the door, and he was playing along like we’d rehearsed it for weeks.

“Recently,” Lucas answered smoothly for us, his arm staying firmly around my shoulders as he reached for the water pitcher with his free hand and refilled my glass first. The simple action felt intimate and natural. He poured with steady precision, no spills on the crisp white tablecloth, then set the pitcher down exactly in its original spot.

“Didn’t want to complicate things right after Emma’s... situation. But we’ve known each other long enough that it just made sense when it happened.”

I managed a nod, forcing my lips into a smile that I hoped looked genuine and warm. My free hand found his knee under the table, squeezing once in silent thanks,or sheer panic. His leg was warm and solid beneath my fingers, muscles tensing slightly at the contact before relaxing again.

“Yeah. It’s new, but... good.” The words felt thick on my tongue, but with Lucas’s arm anchoring me, they landed convincingly.

Everyone bought it completely. Conversations shifted from shock to celebration. Wine glasses clinked in a chaotic, overlapping toast to “new beginnings.” Dessert plates were passed around again,rich chocolate cake for Ethan’s birthday,and Lucas cut a generous slice for me with the serving knife, sliding it onto my plate with practiced ease, his arm never fully leaving my shoulders. When he passed the serving spoon to my aunt, his fingers brushed mine deliberately. Each small action sold the story perfectly: the way he listened to my aunt’s rapid-fire questions with patient nods, the casual lean-in when a cousin pressed for more details about our “first real date.”

“We kept it quiet at first,” he explained, voice even and warm. “ We had some coffee and longer conversations. Turns out we understand each other better than we thought after all these years.” His thumb continued those slow, soothing circles on my arm, calming my racing pulse even as guilt twisted like a knife in my gut.

Ryan tried to insert himself a few times, his tone edged with mockery.

“Must be quite the rebound, Lucas. Emma’s got high expectations. Hope you’re ready for the full planning spreadsheet treatment.” He laughed like it was a joke, but Sarah’s tight smile showed the underlying strain.

Lucas didn’t rise to the bait. He simply tightened his arm around me protectively, pulling me a fraction closer into his side. “Some expectations are worth meeting,” he replied evenly, his voice carrying that quiet confidence I’d always associated with him during family gatherings. “Emma’s worth it.” The sincerity in his tone made my cheeks heat again. For a fleeting second, it didn’t feel entirely fake.

The dinner stretched on with more questions. How did it start? A late-night talk after the shower fallout, I improvised, my voice gaining strength as Lucas nodded supportively. Shared coffee runs that turned into longer conversations. Lucas added details seamlessly,remembering small things like my terrible attempt at grilling last summer and how he’d stepped in to help without being asked. He got up at one point to grab extra napkins from the kitchen counter, walking with purposeful strides, his hand trailing lightly down my back as he left and returned. The path of his fingers left a trail of lingering warmth in their wake. When he sat back down, his arm returned to my shoulders like it belonged there, natural and effortless.

I watched him in stolen glances throughout the meal. The way he listened more than he spoke, nodding thoughtfully while maintaining eye contact. The precise way he cut his own slice of cake, fork moving with efficient, controlled motions.

This was Lucas Bennett,Ethan’s steadfast best friend, the successful businessman who built things that lasted. And now he was my fake boyfriend, selling the lie with actions that felt almost too easy, too convincing.

As the evening wound down, guests started gathering their things. Hugs and goodbyes filled the apartment with overlapping chatter and laughter. My aunt pulled me into a tight embrace near the door, her perfume enveloping me as she whispered, “He’s a keeper, Emma. Don’t let this one go.” I smiled through the heavy guilt twisting in my chest, Lucas standing close by my side the entire time, his hand resting at the small of my back. The touch was light but proprietary, guiding me subtly as we moved toward the door with the others, his fingers occasionally adjusting to keep me steady on my heels.

Ryan and Sarah left first. Ryan paused directly in front of us in the entryway, offering Lucas a handshake that looked more like a challenge than a farewell. “Take care of her, man. She’s... a handful.” His eyes flicked to me with a mix of regret and irritation lingering in his gaze.

Lucas shook his hand firmly, grip strong and unwavering, his other arm still loosely around my waist. “I know exactly who she is.” The words carried quiet weight, and Ryan’s jaw tightened visibly before he turned away, guiding Sarah out the door.

Once they were gone and the door clicked shut behind the last guests, the remaining tension in the apartment eased like a released breath. Ethan closed the door fully and turned to us in the living room, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Okay. Everyone’s gone. Explain. For real this time.”

Sophie hovered nearby, clearing dessert plates but clearly eavesdropping with quick glances our way. Lucas kept his arm around my shoulders as we moved to the living room couch, the string lights casting a soft, warm glow over everything. I sank down onto the cushions, legs feeling unsteady, and he sat beside me, close enough that our thighs pressed together. The contact was constant now, deliberate and reassuring in public. He was committing fully to “play along.”

“It was impulsive,” I admitted once we were settled, twisting my hands nervously in my lap. Lucas’s hand covered one of mine, stilling the fidgeting with his warm, slightly rough fingers. “Ryan was twisting everything again. Blaming me like always. I panicked and said the first safe name that came to mind. Yours. I’m so sorry, Lucas. You didn’t have to go along with it.”

He shrugged, his arm shifting to drape casually across the back of the couch behind me. “I could’ve corrected it. But I saw your face when I walked in. And Ryan’s. Figured it was easier to play along than watch him keep poking.” His gaze met mine steadily, though the public warmth was already fading. “Plus, like I said earlier,my parents have been relentless. This takes the pressure off for a while.”

Ethan paced a short distance across the rug, processing everything with furrowed brows.

“So you are saying three months? Then a quiet breakup? You two realize you’ll have to sell this convincingly. Family events. Maybe some public appearances if the gossip spreads further online.”

“We’ll handle it,” Lucas said, his tone decisive. He stood smoothly, offering me his hand. I took it, letting him pull me up from the couch. The motion brought me close to his chest for a moment, close enough to feel the steady beat of his heart through his shirt. “Emma and I will talk about the details tonight. Set some clear boundaries.”

Sophie gave me a quick, tight hug near the door, whispering, “Text me later. This is wild, but kind of brilliant.” She left with a final wave, closing the door softly behind her.

Ethan lingered by the door as Lucas and I gathered our things,my purse from the side table, his keys from the counter.

“Drive safe. And Lucas,don’t hurt her. Or I’ll kill you.”

Lucas nodded seriously, expression composed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

We stepped out into the hallway together. The elevator ride down was quiet at first, the low hum of the machinery filling the small space as the numbers ticked downward. Lucas kept his arm around my shoulders until the doors opened smoothly to the lobby. His hand moved to the small of my back as we walked out onto the street, guiding me with gentle pressure toward the parking area. The night air was cool against my skin, carrying distant traffic sounds and the faint, earthy scent of impending rain on the horizon.

“My car’s over here,” I said, pointing to where I’d parked a block away under a streetlamp. We walked side by side along the sidewalk, our steps syncing naturally on the concrete. Lucas matched my pace without effort, hands now slipped into his pockets, but staying close enough that our arms occasionally brushed.

At my car, he waited patiently while I fumbled with the keys, the jingle loud in the quiet night.

“We should talk properly,” he said. “Coffee somewhere? Or my place is nearby if you want privacy.”

I hesitated, keys cold in my hand. The adrenaline from dinner was fading fast, leaving behind deep exhaustion and a confusing swirl of emotions. His arm around me and the easy way he’d sold the lie at the table,it had felt safe in the moment. But now, alone, the weight of what I’d started pressed in heavily.

“Your place then, I need to understand what I just started.”

He nodded once, expression neutral, and gave me the address in clear, direct terms before waiting until I was safely inside my car with the doors locked. He then walked to his own vehicle a few spots down, headlights flashing as he started the engine. I followed his taillights through the city streets, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly the entire way. Streetlights blurred past, casting intermittent glows across the dashboard as I navigated turns and stops. What were we doing? This wasn’t just a dinner save anymore. It was becoming a full plan with real consequences.

Lucas’s building was modern and sleek, with secure underground parking. He waited for me by the elevator bank after we both parked, holding the door open with one hand. In his apartment on the tenth floor, he flipped on soft overhead lights with a quick switch, revealing a clean, minimalist space,dark wood floors, a comfortable but understated leather couch, bookshelves neatly lined with business texts and a few carefully chosen novels. No clutter. Very Lucas.

“Water,” he said flatly, moving to the open kitchen area with efficient, purposeful steps. He filled two glasses from the filtered pitcher in the fridge without waiting for my preference, sliding one across the granite island to me. No offer of wine. No small talk. The affectionate man from dinner had completely vanished, replaced by cool detachment.

He suddenly pulled out a notebook,actual paper, not his phone,and there were some listed boundaries in crisp, clinical terms.

No unnecessary PDA beyond what was needed to sell the story. No sleeping over under any circumstances. Check in by text before any family events. End it cleanly after three months with a mutual, amicable story.

His pen moved in neat, precise handwriting across the page, detailing how we met officially , how we’d handle questions from others, and contingency plans for photos or social media. He didn’t look up much, his voice detached and businesslike, as if we were negotiating a contract rather than a fake relationship.

When I shivered slightly from the air conditioning blowing steadily from the vent above, he noticed but made no move to offer comfort.

“You can adjust the thermostat if you need to,” he said coolly, eyes remaining fixed on the notebook. There was no warmth, no throw blanket, no reassuring touch. Just facts and efficiency.

“This could work,” I said finally, my voice tentative as I pulled my sleeves down over my hands. “Thank you. Again. For going along with all of it tonight.”

He sat across from me, elbows on the island, expression unreadable and distant. “It’s practical. Mutual benefit. Nothing more.”

No smile. No softening of his tone. Just cold realism that left me feeling suddenly exposed and small in the quiet apartment. The contrast with his public warmth stung more than I expected.

“Get some rest, Emma,” he added after a long pause, standing up from his stool. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

The drive home after he escorted me down in near silence felt heavier than the night itself. There was no hug goodbye,just a curt nod before he turned away and headed back toward the elevator.

Back at Sophie’s, I collapsed into bed, mind spinning with the night’s events and the sharp contrast in Lucas’s behavior. The lie was solid now. Everyone believed us. But alone with him, the cold reality had settled in like frost.

My phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand.

It was a text from Ryan: *Need to see you. Something important to say about us. Meet at our old spot by the park fountain? Alone. Please, Em. It’s urgent.*

My stomach dropped. Part of me wanted to delete it and block the number. But curiosity and the lingering ache of betrayal pulled me up anyway. I slipped on jeans and a hoodie over my clothes, telling myself it was just closure, nothing more. The drive to the park was quiet, streets mostly empty under the yellow glow of streetlights. I parked carefully in a spot near the entrance and walked the familiar winding path to the fountain, my heart heavy with memories of late-night talks with Ryan there in better times.

He was waiting on a bench near the edge, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Emma. You came.”He said , a smile on his face.

“What do you want, Ryan?” I stayed standing several feet away, arms crossed tightly over my chest against the chill.

He stood slowly, stepping closer with deliberate steps. “I messed up. Seeing you with Lucas tonight... It hit me hard. Did you run into another man’s arms because I hurt you , Emma? But we were good once. Let me fix it.”

His hand reached for my arm. I stepped back quickly, but he followed, his grip tightening on my wrist with surprising strength.

“Don’t be like this. You’re nothing but pitiful right now, jumping to Lucas to make me jealous. You need me. Stop pretending with him.”

Panic surged through me like ice water as he pulled me closer, his other hand grabbing my waist possessively, trying to force a kiss. His breath was hot and familiar against my face, words slurred with desperation and maybe alcohol.

“Come on, Em. Forget him. You’re mine.”

I struggled hard, shoving at his chest with my free hand, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Let go! Ryan, stop!Please!”I begged in a hoarse voice.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps pounded the path behind us. Lucas’s voice cut through the night like thunder, sharp and commanding.

“Get your filthy hands off her.”