A Pretending Life

I have had this quiet belief for most of my life that one day, I would achieve the success I dreamed of through hard work. Even when life mostly handed me lemons, I kept pushing, kept striving harder.

I was born late to my parents, and after losing them at a young age, I was raised by my much older brother. So much older that people often mistook him for my father. There was a huge age gap between us. Even his daughter, Aria, was six years older than me.

Living with him was never easy. He was controlling, the kind of man who always wanted things to go his way. And when they did not, he would turn against you and find something wrong with everything you did. That is how he treated his own daughter, so imagine how it was for me.

Since I moved out of his house after high school, he barely speaks to me. And honestly, staying with Aria before that only made things worse. He expected me to be against her simply because he was.

His character is the kind that sickens you. He has been with multiple women outside his marriage to Aria’s mom and has several children with them. About eight, I think. The poor woman went through so much trying to give him more children, especially boys, after Aria was born. She suffered through labor after labor, losing three babies in the process, and the fourth one cost her her life.

Living with that man felt like hell.

I still remember the day he threw Aria out of the house when she was just seventeen and had not even finished high school. I cried so much that night. It felt like I would never get the chance to leave. I hated everything, but I tolerated his nasty ways as much as I could.

I started counting down the days the moment I got to junior year. Every night, I prayed that my hard work and studies would land me in a college far away from his grip.

Thank God I had access to the college funds our parents left for me. I worked hard to support myself, even getting a job after school at a popular food franchise in town.

Since living with him, I have been setting goals. I knew what I wanted to become. I pictured the life I wanted to live. And yes, it even included flying first class or on a private jet. It seemed minor, maybe silly to some, but I dreamt of it.

Just recently, life had started to feel good again. Aria and I would stay up late, planning the future together, especially now that she was dating a rich man. We would laugh and talk about everything we wanted to do.

“Imagine I become a billionaire’s wife. Imagine all the luxurious trips I would take in our very own private jet,” she once said.

We laughed and kept building the fantasy, giving it vivid details, as if we were scripting a movie.

Well, here I was, just a few weeks later, traveling in one.

But it was nothing like how I had imagined it would be.

Sitting here in a private jet for the first time. Not the way I planned it, but still, here I was. The inside looked like something out of a movie. There were wide leather chairs that looked too soft to be real and couches along the side that made it feel more like a fancy living room than a plane. Everything was clean, quiet, and expensive. It screamed luxury, obviously. What else did I expect?

I sat by the window, staring out at the sky. Sarah was beside me, and across from us, Aleksander sat facing me in a black shirt and jeans, looking calm and unreadable.

Nora had already woken up. The moment we arrived at the airport, she lit up when she saw me and realized I was coming with them. Now, she was sitting on the couch to our right, happily playing with her toys.

Sarah fixed a small table between us. Aleksander wanted us to go over a few things, and she had come prepared. She pulled out a notebook filled with notes and handed us each a page. It was all about our so called relationship. How we met, how long we had been together, basic facts we needed to remember.

She had us rehearse while she asked questions, correcting me any time I sounded too stiff or unsure.

“We are doing this so your relationship and marriage do not come off as fake to his family,” she said, sounding very professional. “You might assume that because they are Norwegian, they will not speak much English. But they are highly educated, well traveled, and yes, they speak fluent English. They have been to multiple countries including where you are from, so they will notice if your answers sound scripted.”

She looked directly at me as she continued. “Also, where we are going, the environment will feel very different. Their culture, their way of life, the way the family interacts, it will be a lot. So put up a strong front. Do not let them read you too easily. It is important. And remember, you are married to Mr Barginsen now, so act like it in public. Your chemistry, your body language, the way you behave around each other, it all matters.”

Her eyes moved between me and Aleksander as she spoke, making sure we both took it seriously.

“With that being said, I believe I have explained everything you need to know about your marriage. Do either of you have any questions?” Sarah asked, looking between us.

“I am good on my part. I just hope my wife here understands and will act accordingly,” he said, turning to me with a half grin.

He knew exactly how to get on my nerves with that usual cheeky tone.

“I got it, husband. Thank you very much for your opinion,” I replied with a forced smile.

Sarah sighed softly. “Alright, we might have a bit of work to do. Could you both please tone down the tension? I could sense it from a distance. Let us work on that, Sir, Miss,” she said, glancing between us with raised brows.

Neither of us said a word. I just gave a small nod.

A moment later, Nora came over, wanting to sit on my lap. I pulled her close and gave her a warm embrace as we both turned toward the window, watching the clouds pass by in silence.

After hours on board, we finally reached our destination. Norway. My first time traveling outside the country, and my first time in Europe.

I had always dreamt of visiting Europe. There were a few countries I had in mind—France, the UK, Germany, maybe even Spain—mostly because they have better tourism publicity. I did not know much about Norway, except for what I had heard about Vikings and Norse culture. I had never really researched the country, but I hoped the people would be welcoming and the sceneries beautiful.

We were in Oslo, the capital city, just like Sarah had told me.

Inside the car, Nora refused to leave my side while her dad rode in another car. I gazed out the window as we moved through the streets, admiring the architecture around us. European buildings had such a different look and design compared to what I was used to back home. The city was beautiful and felt less crowded.

Nora sat close to me, pointing out things she recognized, things she loved. She could not stop talking about how excited she was for me to see her bedroom.

The sun was setting by the time we finally reached their home. The house was far from the city, set high on a hill, and as we drove up, I could see how beautiful the surrounding homes were. It was already dark, so the streetlights and house lights lit up the area with a soft glow. Tall trees lined both sides of the road, their thick branches adding to the quiet, cold atmosphere, even though I had not stepped outside yet.

At one point, we turned onto a narrow winding path that led to their mansion. It was huge. Much bigger than the houses we passed along the way. Those homes were colorful and simple, with a kind of quiet elegance. The structure of each one was different from anything I had seen before. Small, charming, and modest.

But then we reached their family house. Sarah pointed it out, and I was stunned.

Nora had already fallen asleep. I was sure she would have loved to take me around and show me everything.

The gates opened on their own, and the full view of the building came into sight. It looked grand, modern, and somehow still private, almost hidden within the tall trees.

Just as I was about to get out of the car, Sarah gasped.

“Oh my gosh,” she said, staring at me.

I turned to her, confused. “What is it?”

“We almost forgot the most important part of this marriage. The ring,” she said.

I blinked, surprised. With everything we had gone over, we somehow forgot to talk about the wedding ring.

“I have had it all along, I just forgot to take it out of my bag. It is in the trunk. Do not get down yet. Let me get it for you,” she said quickly, stepping out of the car.

She returned a moment later and slid back in beside me, holding a small box.

“Here it is,” she said, opening it and handing it to me. “Hopefully it fits perfectly.”

I took it from her and looked at it closely. It was one of the prettiest things I had ever seen. Sparkling diamonds set in a delicate band. It looked expensive. Beautiful.

“This has to be really expensive,” I said softly, still staring at it as I gently slid it onto my ring finger.

“You can say that again. And this is all yours, from your husband,” she replied playfully.

Just then, Erik knocked on the window, letting us know it was time to get out. I glanced outside and saw Mr Billionaire standing there, waiting for us.

Nora was still fast asleep on my lap. Sarah helped by carefully lifting her into her arms, then Erik opened my door.

“Welcome to your new life for the next one year,” Sarah said as I stood in front of the house.

Aleksander approached me and spoke softly.

“Let me take you in,” he said, lifting his elbow for me to slip my arm through.

I looked into his eyes, feeling tense. I did not know what to expect. Sarah had already taken Nora inside.

I walked beside him, our arms lightly locked, and we entered through the massive front door.

The door opened into a large living area with an exquisite interior. The walls were lined with art and artifacts, the kind you only ever see in magazines. The floors, the furniture, the lighting—everything about it screamed wealth and class.

Several house staff greeted us briefly, bowing slightly before heading off to help with the luggage.

Aleksander gestured for me to follow him up the wide, beautifully layered staircase.

“This is my father’s house. Welcome,” he said as we climbed.

I gave him a small smile.

“He is gone. I live here now with my grandmother,” he added quietly.

“And other relatives,” he added at last.

I almost thought he lived alone with his grandmother. For a second, I nearly sighed in relief, thinking I would only have to deal with her—someone I imagined would be gentle and welcoming.

But he clearly did that on purpose. The look on my face after his last words made him smirk.

We reached the door that looked like his bedroom. He gently pushed it open.

“We have a big day tomorrow. Let us get some rest. I will introduce you to my grandmother and the rest of the family.”

A strange jolt ran through my body at those words. The rest of the family.

Let us hope I can put on an act convincing enough as the wife of Mr Billionaire.