Chapter 8. Fake It Till You Make It

Fake It Till You Make It

Claire.

Tyler’s eyes widened in a dramatic flare of surprise on his face. “Explain what? Why on God’s green earth does Victor think you’re his girlfriend?”

I drew in a shaky breath as I fought to keep my voice steady. “The accident… it messed with his head. He doesn’t remember anything. The doctor found an engagement ring in his pocket. Apparently, Victor was about to propose to someone. And now the doctor—and Victor—both think that someone is me.”

Tyler stared at me, and then he blinked twice. “What in the Bollywood soap opera is going on here?"

Dad stepped forward, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and quiet authority. “Right now, we can’t drop the truth on him. Contradicting his emotions could set his recovery back. His mind needs time to heal.”

I shot Dad a pleading look. “Dad, stop. This isn’t right.” I turned toward the door. “I have to go in there and tell him the truth.”

My hand was already on the doorknob when someone grabbed my wrist.

I spun around, eyebrows raised. Tyler had stopped me “Why?” I asked.

A mischievous grin spread across Tyler’s face. He pressed his lips together, clearly fighting laughter. “Because… I think I like this. Victor’s actual girlfriend—the one he was about to propose to? She cancelled her flight to LA without even informing Victor. I’ve been telling him for years that she was no good. She’s not even in the country right now. Too busy ‘chasing her dreams’ in Amsterdam.”

My heart skipped. Victor had always jetted off to Amsterdam. I’d imagined business trips. All those times Bonnie told me Victor had gone to Amsterdam. He was chasing someone he loved. I swallowed hard, blinking back the sting behind my eyes.

“So that’s why he was always going there?” My voice came out smaller than I intended, barely above a whisper.

Tyler nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah. And she never made time to visit him. Not once.” He studied me for a long beat, then he shrugged."Well, Victor loves her. But right now, his brain’s doing a hard reset, and guess what? This might be fate.

I mean, I've seen the way you look at him, Claire. For years."

My eyebrows pulled together. I ducked my head, embarrassed and stunned, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "Tyler, what are... what are you talking about?"

"We all know that you're hopelessly in love with Victor."

Heat flooded my cheeks, a deep, burning flush that crept all the way to my ears.

Tyler barked out a laugh. The sound filled the quiet hallway. “Come on! If Victor couldn’t see it, that’s on him. But the people who actually pay attention? We noticed. You care about my idiot friend more than anyone. If he’s gonna claw his way back from this, I’d trust him with you over anyone else in the world.”

“Tyler, I can’t,” I whispered, my voice cracking. My legs felt unsteady, like the floor might tilt beneath me at any second.

“You can.” He waggled his eyebrows, leaning in conspiratorially. “Just fake it till… you make it as the saying goes." He paused, watching my face, and my face had no trace of the kind of humour he had expected. He paused then: "Well, whatever. Won’t hurt you to experience the side of Victor that doesn’t treat you like you’re invisible or annoying. Trust me—that version of him? Every woman’s fantasy. He's irredeemable when he's in love. Sometimes, I even wish I were Victor's girlfriend."

Dad blinked.

I blinked.

Tyler kept talking.

"The way he loves? The way he spoils the woman he's with? The money? The attention? Probably writes you poetry and calls you ‘my sun and stars’ or some romantic crap.” He paused, then suddenly straightened, sniffing dramatically and waving a hand. “I’m straight. Extremely straight." He pointed at both of us. "Don’t get any ideas. I'm straight, okay? This is purely bromantic observation. No homo. I mean—full homo for the bromance, but not… you know what I mean. God, I’m making it worse.”

The silence lasted one second. Then he laughed awkwardly. Even Dad chuckled.

Despite the tension, I couldn't stop myself from smiling. Tyler rubbed his neck.

"Well, that came out wrong a little bit," he admitted.

"A lot actually," Dad corrected.

Tyler sighed. "My point is..." He looked back at me "...Victor deserves someone who genuinely loves him." His voice lost its teasing tone. "And I think that's you."

Dad nodded, and his eyes met my eyes, his gaze steady and kind. “Claire… I think you should do this. For him.”

I stood there, the hallway feeling smaller, the distant beep of monitors and murmur of nurses fading into the background. Tyler’s words echoed in my mind—won’t hurt you to experience the side of Victor that doesn’t treat you like you’re invisible or annoying.

The temptation of it, the chance to see Victor look at me like I mattered. My heart twisted with guilt, with longing, with a fragile kind of hope that scared me more than anything. For all the years of pretending his words didn't hurt. The years of wishing, just once, he'd look at me the way I'd always looked at him.

Maybe... maybe I deserved one chance.

Even if it wasn't real. Even if it lasted only until his memories returned.

I closed my eyes. Finally, I gave a small, hesitant nod. “Okay… I’ll do it.”

But then a new fear hit me almost immediately. “What if his girlfriend comes back?” I asked, voice barely audible.

Tyler’s grin turned feral. “I’ll handle her. Don’t you worry about anything. Her ass is officially boyfriendless starting today. I’ll make sure of it. I’ve got a whole speech prepared. Oscar-worthy. Just relax your head.”

I managed a weak smile. “Okay.”

Dad nodded toward the door. “Let’s go in. He’s alone and probably worried sick by now.”

The moment we stepped inside, Victor’s head turned toward me. His face softened instantly, those grey eyes lighting up with a warmth that stole the breath from my lungs. A gentle smile curved his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I thought you left me,” he murmured, the words low and laced with quiet relief.