Learning to Pretend

Chapter 4: Learning to Pretend

The first time I stood in front of the mirror wearing clothes chosen by someone else, I barely recognized myself.

The dress hugged my body in a way I wasn’t used to—soft cream fabric that fell just below my knees, elegant but understated. My hair had been styled into loose waves, and subtle makeup softened my features. I looked… presentable. Polished.

Like someone who belonged in Adrian Blackwood’s world.

His assistant, Claire, stepped back and studied me critically. “Mr. Blackwood prefers simple elegance,” she said. “No excess. No distractions.”

I nodded, unsure how to respond.

No distractions.

As if I was one.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet. Adrian sat beside me in the back of the car, his presence calm and controlled. The city lights streaked past the window, and I kept my hands folded in my lap to hide their nervous tremble.

“Tonight is straightforward,” he said, breaking the silence. “Smile. Hold my arm. Speak only when spoken to.”

I glanced at him. “And if they ask about us?”

“They won’t,” he replied. “But if they do, let me answer.”

The car came to a stop in front of a discreet, upscale restaurant tucked away from the public eye. As soon as we stepped inside, I felt it—the shift in the air. Conversations lowered. Eyes turned. Whispers followed.

Adrian’s hand settled on the small of my back, guiding me forward.

The touch was brief, professional—but my body reacted instantly, a strange warmth spreading through me. I hated myself for noticing.

“This is my wife, Amara,” Adrian said as we approached a group of well-dressed men and women.

The word wife still didn’t feel real.

Smiles appeared instantly. Compliments followed.

“You’re lovely.”

“She’s perfect for you, Adrian.”

“When did this happen?”

I smiled politely, nodding, playing my part while Adrian answered smoothly, confidently—like this life had always been planned.

At the table, he pulled my chair out for me. The gesture surprised me. So did the way his hand rested lightly on mine when someone made a comment about how well we suited each other.

It was all an act.

And yet… it felt real enough to confuse me.

Throughout dinner, I watched him closely. The way he listened. The way he commanded attention without raising his voice. This was his world, and he ruled it effortlessly.

I wondered who he was when no one was watching.

When dessert arrived, one of the board members leaned closer. “You’re a lucky woman, Amara. Adrian isn’t the kind of man who settles.”

I forced a smile. “I know.”

Adrian’s fingers tightened slightly around mine.

On the drive home, neither of us spoke.

When we entered the penthouse, the illusion shattered. The distance returned instantly, sharp and unmistakable.

“You handled yourself well tonight,” Adrian said, loosening his tie. “You learned quickly.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

He hesitated, then added, “This arrangement will work… if you remember what it is.”

I nodded. “A contract.”

“Yes.”

He turned to leave, but stopped. “Don’t confuse politeness for affection.”

The words stung more than I expected.

Later that night, I stood alone in my room, staring at my reflection. The dress was gone. The makeup wiped away. But the woman in the mirror still looked different.

Not stronger.

Just… changed.

I had learned how to pretend.

And I was terrified of how easily I was getting good at it.