Could be fake

~Anna~

It was crazy. 

The craziest proposal I had ever heard.

“Fuck partner?” I had never heard of those two words coined together in that manner… until that night.

I gaped at him, thinking he was joking. And even though I honestly wasn’t in the mood for one, I waited for him to take back his words. 

But this guy instead smiled slowly, his demeanor so relaxed… as if he’d just made the most ordinary proposal in the world.

Embarrassed, I grabbed my glass and took a gulp. 

“Look, I–I’m–” I started, about to reject his offer on the spot—

But he slid a note to me, stopping me mid-sentence.

“Think about it,” he said. Before I could blink, he was already walking out of the bar. 

“What the hell just happened?” I asked myself, but the feel of his note in my palms was enough to tell me that what was going on in my head truly happened. 

The sound of Alessandro’s snoring jolted me back to the hotel room. I sighed quietly as I realized he was now fast asleep. 

I slipped out of his hold and quietly left the room.

From there, I went straight to the hospital in Brooklyn where my mom had been admitted.

“Mom,” I called as I entered her hospital room. 

Her frail body weakened me and almost made me stop in my tracks, but I forced myself to keep smiling. I couldn't let her see me weak. I had to be strong for her. 

Everyday she looked thinner and thinner. It was obvious her body was trying so hard to accept the numerous treatments she was undergoing. 

What right did I have to be sad in front of her when she was the one feeling all the pain?

“Daughter,” she called as she sat up, her face spreading into a weak smile. 

“Mom, I brought food for you. Your favorite,” I said as I opened the food flask of hot chicken parmesan.

At the sight of the food, she retched. 

I grabbed a bucket by the bed and put it under her mouth. “It's okay. You can vomit,” I said as I gently patted her back, tears slowly welling up in my own eyes.

Even her favorite food has become a sight she couldn't stand. 

Weight loss, weakness, bleeding, so much pain and now also loss of appetite… tears slipped out of my eyes, but I quickly swiped it away before she would notice.  

Once she was calm, I went to see her doctor. 

“Annabelle, glad you stopped by. I was going to have the nurse call you later,” Doctor Oliver said as I entered his office. 

“It's okay, Doctor Oliver. You can talk to me. How's my mom doing? Is she ready for the surgery?”

“The surgery has been scheduled for this weekend. The nurse will speak to you on all you should know concerning it. We hope the cancer hasn't spread to other parts aside her stomach as the CT scan showed.”

My heart slammed in my chest, a sense of dread filling me. 

“Doctor Oliver, will my mom be alright after the surgery?” I asked, desperately, seeking for just one affirmation from him that my mom will be fine again. That she wouldn't be sick anymore.

Doctor Oliver flashed a comforting smile. “We'll have to see after the surgery and also suggest the best treatments to follow,” he said. “I will do my best to make sure she's well taken care of.”

“Thank you, Doctor Oliver. Thank you,” I said as I stood up. 

Later, as I walked out of the hospital, my phone beeped. 

I quickly pulled it out of my jeans pocket—I was expecting a message. 

“Dear Annabelle Brown, we regret to inform you that we are not seeking any new workers for the position you applied for at our company at the moment. We do hope you’ll consider applying again later when—”

I sighed, my arm dropping lifelessly.

Another message. Another disappointment.

Before Mom suddenly fell ill, my plan had been to take a long break from work after my breakup with my jerk ex-boyfriend, Adam. But then Mom was admitted, and the hospital bills, surgery bills, and her medication costs started piling up.

I had foolishly spent my life savings helping Adam take care of his loans and his family issues before we broke up, leaving me with barely anything for Mom’s treatment.

I tried to return to my workplace, only to find I had already been replaced.

Frustrated, I started applying to different companies, but with the way I kept getting rejected everywhere, I might have to settle for part-time jobs. Because even if it meant working as a cleaner despite my qualifications, I would do it—anything to make sure Mom could get all her treatments.

Just then, as I was getting into the subway, my phone started to ring. 

I swiped the pick button as I located an empty seat and sat down.

“Hello? Is this Annabelle Brown?” A female voice echoed from the other end. 

“Yes, she's the one. How may I help you?”

“Congratulations, you have passed our interview for your job application in Miller luxury holdings—”

“Wait, what!”

“You can start working from next month but make sure to come in before then and get yourself acquainted with—”

“Oh my God!!” I screamed. 

“Sorry sir… sorry sir…” I apologized profusely to the man seated beside me who must have been startled by my sudden scream. 

“Oh God thank you,” I muttered to myself after dropping the call.

It wasn't only the fact that I just got a job after so many disappointments, but the fact that I was accepted in Miller luxury holdings. 

Everyone in New York knew Miller Group, a leading conglomerate in the state and country at large. I was so happy that I really wanted to share my good news with someone. 

I entered my contact list ready to scroll to “Alessandro” but then stopped, my hands freezing.

How can I call him when I didn't even have his personal phone number?

When the only way I could contact him was through a receptionist of the hotel which we usually meet.

It dawned on me then that, truly, Alessandro and I were nothing more than fuck partners. 

I sighed, the realization stinging.

“How can you be sad right now… do you even have the right to be sad…” I questioned myself. 

I mean, I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to his proposal. 

It was in the agreement… in the contract we had signed. We would be nothing but fuck partners. 

We knew only the names we had told each other, and for all I knew, Alessandro might not even be his real name.