All Chapters of What We Pretended To Be : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Daniel: The apartment felt different after Maria left that morning. Not empty. Just temporarily missing something important. Her tea mug was still sitting beside the sink when I walked back into the kitchen after getting dressed, lipstick faintly visible on the rim. She always forgot things halfway through doing them when she was distracted. Tea mugs, books, hair clips, entire conversations sometimes. I looked at it for a second, then left it exactly where it was. The last few days had shifted something between us. Not suddenly, not dramatically, just steadily enough that I could feel it every time she looked at me a little too long before looking away again. The dinner with our families. The beach house. The farm. Her confession. Mine, eventually. I was done waiting for the perfect moment. Every time we got close to one, life interrupted it with another article or another photograph or another version of the past trying to drag itself into the present. Tonight was supposed to fix t

Maria: I realized where we were going halfway through the drive. Not because Daniel told me anything useful — obviously, that would’ve required him to behave like a normal person for once, but because the roads changed. The buildings thinned out. The air coming through the cracked window started smelling like salt instead of traffic and expensive perfume and city heat. I turned toward him slowly. “You’re taking me somewhere near water.” His hands stayed loose on the steering wheel. “Very observant.” “I hate you.” “That’s unfortunate considering you voluntarily got into my car.” “I’m still not fully convinced that wasn’t a mistake.” That almost got a smile out of him. Almost. I watched the side of his face for a second before looking back outside. He seemed calmer tonight, not lighter exactly — Daniel didn’t really do light — but settled maybe, like something in him had stopped bracing for impact every five minutes. The annoying thing was that I probably looked the same. By t

Maria: I was halfway through my tea when my phone buzzed against the kitchen counter. Unknown number. I almost ignored it. Lately unknown numbers usually meant journalists pretending not to be journalists, or strangers suddenly convinced they were entitled to details about my marriage because the internet had discovered my existence. But something made me open this one anyway. Hi Maria. I think it’s time we spoke properly. Woman to woman. There are things you deserve to know about Daniel and about the situation you’re in. I’d rather we have an honest conversation privately instead of allowing misunderstandings to continue. Elena. I stared at it for a second longer than necessary. Not shocked. Honestly just tired. There was something almost funny about how committed Elena was to sounding graceful while doing deeply irritating things. Woman to woman. Please. I took another sip of tea and reread the message, mostly because I could practically hear her voice while reading it — calm,

Maria: I knew today mattered before either of us said a word about it. The apartment was quiet in that expensive controlled way it always was in the mornings, sunlight stretching slowly across the bedroom floor, the city muffled behind glass somewhere far below us. I stood in front of the mirror fastening my earrings and tried not to overthink the fact that my hands were slightly unsteady. Not nervous exactly. Just aware. Of the room we were walking into, of my father, of everything this partnership meant now that it wasn’t hanging by a thread anymore. A year ago all I wanted was stability. That was the whole point of the contract. Save Walker Corporation, help my father breathe again, and keep the family from collapsing in on itself. That was it. Simple. And somehow somewhere along the line it stopped being only that. The bedroom door opened behind me and Daniel walked in adjusting the cuff of his shirt, already dressed except for his jacket. His attention shifted to me immedi

Maria: By the time the city disappeared behind us completely, the night had settled into something soft and endless. The yacht moved steadily through the water, smooth enough that it barely felt like movement at all—just distance growing quietly between us and the shore. Between us and everything is loud. Dinner had come and gone almost lazily. Wine, food neither of us paid much attention to, conversations that drifted from business to Marcus to Isabelle threatening legal action against an interior designer because she claimed one of the Rothfield offices looked emotionally abandoned. Daniel had listened to that story with the same expression he used during billion-dollar negotiations, which somehow made it funnier. Now the plates were gone, the staff had disappeared somewhere below deck, and the air had turned colder around us. I leaned against the railing with my glass in my hand, staring out at the dark water stretching endlessly ahead. Behind me, I heard Daniel approaching befo