บททั้งหมดของ Fake To Fall : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

LakeThe morning after the Fall Festival, Ivy woke up with a strange weight in her chest. Not the good kind that made her feel cozy and wrapped in the memory of Lake’s arms, but the heavy, pounding kind that screamed, Something’s about to go wrong.She lay in bed for a moment, watching the rays of sun seep through the wooden blinds, casting slatted shadows across the cabin. Lake wasn’t there beside her. She reached over the sheets, still warm on his side, and sighed.The Fall Festival had felt like something out of a dream. Cornstalks. Candied apples. Spontaneous dancing under string lights. And that kiss—God, that kiss.It had started out staged. But somewhere between the hand on her lower back and the way he said her name like it was a promise, it became real. Real enough that when the camera crew cheered and their photo was posted on the retreat’s social media with the caption “True Love Wins!”, Ivy felt a bolt of panic she couldn’t explain.They were never supposed to be... viral.

LakeThe early October morning was colder than it should’ve been. A sharp chill rode the wind, cutting through Ivy’s hoodie as she hauled her suitcase toward the retreat’s exit gates. The sun hadn’t even risen yet. Mist coiled around the pine trees, soft and haunting, like it knew what was happening.She didn’t look back.Her chest felt like it had caved in. Her eyes were dry now—she’d cried enough in the cabin last night to fill the damn lake. Every corner of that room echoed with memories of Lake: his laugh, his teasing, his warmth in the middle of the night. She couldn’t even look at the couch without remembering the night he carried her there after she fell asleep mid-movie. God, he had been so good at pretending.Or maybe she had been the one pretending.Pretending she could open up.Pretending she could trust again.Pretending a fake marriage could lead to real love.She reached the end of the trail and hitched her bag into the waiting rideshare car. The driver gave her a nod an

IvyThe morning sun filtered through the glass-paneled cabin like golden confetti, sprinkling Ivy’s trembling hands with light as she adjusted the mic clipped to her blouse. Her heart pounded louder than the small boom mic perched between her and the retreat’s documentary crew. The same crew she once smiled and waved at casually. Now, she was sitting on a wooden stool under full lighting, every angle capturing her flushed cheeks, nervous eyes, and soul-level vulnerability.“Rolling,” someone called out.Ivy stared into the lens, a gaping mouth of honesty she wasn’t sure she was ready to feed. But this was her idea. The final requirement of her project: a personal reflection on relationship dynamics. Only now, she didn’t feel like an observer anymore. She felt like the test subject.The producer smiled gently from behind the camera. “Whenever you’re ready.”She inhaled slowly. “I came here for research,” she began, voice cracking. “I wanted to understand intimacy, connection, chemistry

IvyBy noon the next day, the video was everywhere.The retreat’s social media team had apparently received Lake’s submission—his final project, the one he’d been mysteriously working on late into the night—and after what must’ve been very intense deliberation, they decided to post it on all their platforms. The caption read:“Sometimes, the best love stories begin with a lie. Watch how this couple turned fake into fate. #TillAutumnDoUsPart.”It was a quiet Thursday. No one expected the storm that followed.Within hours, the video had racked up half a million views. Then a million. Comments flooded in from every direction. People shared it on TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, and even X—because apparently, heartbreak travels fast no matter the platform.“I CRIED. This is what romance is supposed to feel like.”“Lake and Ivy NEED to get back together. No way their story ends like that.”“Give this man an Oscar and this woman her man back!”The hashtags were unstoppable: #TillAutumnDoUsPart.

LakeThe murmur of the small indie cinema faded into a hush. The audience sat forward in their creaky seats as the lights dimmed, the screen flickering off and replaced by the soft glow of the stage. Lake Hart stepped into the spotlight.Wearing dark jeans, a navy shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his signature leather bracelet, Lake looked nothing like the cocky, emotionally evasive man who had walked into the summer retreat months ago. This version of Lake was quieter, steadier. But if you looked close enough, you could still spot the storm beneath his calm.Ivy sat in the last row, tucked between the shadows and her pounding heartbeat. She didn’t even remember standing up to walk inside the cinema—only that her feet had carried her there after watching the retreat’s scandal clip go viral online. The video. The hashtags. The outpour of support. The demand for truth.And now, the truth was standing on stage with a microphone in hand and her name written all over his hea