All Chapters of Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

EMILIA“Have you seen this before?” I breathe, my eyes glued to the mural on the wall. We were just walking to the convenience store to grab some of Céline’s essentials, but then this caught my eye — a huge swirl of colours, like a painting from a dream.The mural stretches across the hallway, all soft pastels and golden light. It's full of pictures — painted versions of Zane and Becca, laughing, dancing, holding hands, kissing. It’s romantic in a way that makes your chest ache a little.Would be better if the groom didn’t have more than a few screws loose.“Wow,” I whisper. “The cruise really was made just for them.”Céline glances over, smiling a little like she’s not surprised. “Yeah. I was actually there when Becca and Margot planned the whole thing. They got the mural commissioned months ago.”“Wait— months?” My eyebrows lift. “They were planning this cruise that far back?”She nods, pulling her hair over one shoulder. “Becca’s a planner. And Margot’s got crazy connections.”I no

LACEY TW: Depression, suicidal thoughts and behaviour. Please proceed with care. I’m so tired. Not the kind of tired sleep can fix. The kind that lives in your bones. That never goes away. That makes it hard to even breathe sometimes. I woke up alone in the suite Céline and I share. For a second, I felt relief. She wasn’t there. No cheerful morning voice. No forced hugs. Just silence. I love Céline. I really do. She’s been my light, my anchor, the only person who stayed when the rest of the world turned its back. But sometimes… I wish she’d let me drown. Let me slip under. Let me disappear. Because this version of me? The one left behind after the divorce? I don’t recognise her. I used to laugh so easily. I used to fill rooms. Now I can barely fill a bed. I lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling, hoping something — anything — will come and end this feeling. This heaviness. This quiet pain that never screams but always stays. He left me. He left me, and

LACEYOut of the corner of my eye, I see Liam heading toward Emilia, but my focus doesn't budge.Céline.She stands there like she’s the one who’s been wronged — wide-eyed, trembling, like she just stumbled onto a stage she didn’t know she was standing on.I wonder how many nights actresses like Jessica Monroe have spent in front of the mirror, trying to perfect that exact look. The helplessness. The carefully measured innocence. Céline wears it effortlessly, like it’s second nature.Maybe it always was.Maybe the entire friendship was just another performance.No. No, I can’t—I can’t believe that.Because if I do, it means none of it was real. Not the late nights, not the laughter, not the way she used to cry in my arms and say I was the only person who ever stayed. It means I made it all up. Like some desperate idiot chasing love in a house full of mirrors.“Tell me it’s not true, Céline,” I say, but it’s not really me speaking. It’s some broken part of me trying to crawl out. The

LIAMEmilia snorts against my shoulder but pulls away gently, nudging me with a quiet smile before moving to sit next to Lacey. She doesn’t say anything — neither of them do — but they fall into a kind of easy silence, the kind that doesn’t need permission or apology.They drink. Slowly. Quietly. Shoulder to shoulder, not facing each other, but not alone either.By 3:47 PM, I’ve got two women sunk into their own exhaustion, tipsy on cheap beer and heavier thoughts. Lacey’s cup is on the ground, empty. Emilia’s head rests lightly on her friend’s shoulder. Neither of them is crying, but it’s the kind of silence that comes after you’ve felt everything all at once.I sit with them. I don’t speak. Just stay close and keep an eye out, in case either of them needs a refill — or a reason to keep going.It’s peaceful. For maybe five minutes.Then Emilia hiccups.“But… but…” she starts, blinking slowly at Lacey like her brain’s buffering. “If whales are mammals… does that mean they have belly b

ZANEArms crossed, back pressed to the wall, I wait.The bastard’s taking his time. Every second that ticks by grates at my nerves, winding them tighter. When the suite door finally creaks open, Stone stumbles out like he’s got somewhere urgent to be — duffel bags slung over each shoulder, head down, avoiding the world.He doesn’t see me right away. Fumbles with the door like it’s giving him a hard time. When he finally clocks me standing there, his body goes rigid. “Za—”Too late.My fist snaps forward and cracks against his already bruised jaw. The force knocks him off balance, sending him stumbling into the hallway wall with a grunt of pain, one hand clutching his face.He’s still upright. Shame.I close the distance, grab him by the collar, and slam him hard against the wall. The bags hit the floor with a heavy thud, but his grip on them is stubborn, like they’re his last damn lifeline.“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” I growl, my voice low and sharp, heat rising in my