What We Pretended To Be のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

Maria:I wake up to my phone vibrating like it’s been trying to get my attention for a while and I’ve just been ignoring it.For a second, I don’t move. Just lie there, staring at the ceiling, letting the unfamiliar quiet settle around me.Then it hits.Hotel. Trip. Storm.Daniel.I reach for my phone.Three missed calls. Two from my mother, one from a number I don’t feel like calling back. A few messages I don’t open yet.I check the time.Too late.“Great,” I mutter, pushing myself up.Everything after that is rushed. Not chaotic exactly, just… slightly off. Like I’m a step behind my own morning.I fix my hair halfway, give up, then try again. Change my top once. Almost change it again, then stop myself.It doesn’t matter that much.It shouldn’t.—When I open the door, I’m still adjusting the strap of my bag, not really paying attention.So I walk straight into someone.I stop short.“Oh—”Daniel steadies me before I fully lose balance. His hand lingers for a second, just enough to

Maria:I don’t move when the phone starts ringing.I just stare at it.Noah.It rings again.And again.I pick it up on the third.“Hi.”There’s a pause. Not long. Just enough to feel like he’s adjusting himself before speaking.“Hey.”His voice is calm. Careful in a way I don’t think I’ve heard before.“I didn’t want to keep texting,” he says.“Yeah… I figured.”I sit on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like that might help me stay focused.Another pause.Then—“I saw the engagement thing,” he says.I let out a quiet breath.“I was going to ask if you did.”“I did,” he repeats. “I didn’t bring it up earlier.”“Why?”“Because I know that’s not you.”Something in me softens a little at that. Just a little.“It’s not,” I say. “It’s just them. You know how they are.”“I do.”“But they’re not denying it,” I add, because it feels worse if I don’t say it myself.There’s a small shift on the line. I don’t hear it, exactly. I feel it.“Yeah,” he says.I rush to fil

Daniel: I don’t sit still long enough for anything to settle. That’s the problem. If I stop moving, I start thinking. And if I start thinking, I end up back there—voices layered over each other, decisions being made like I’m not in the room, like I’m part of something already agreed on. And then Maria. Looking at me like I’d made it worse. I exhale sharply and push away from the desk. “I didn’t handle that well.” Saying it out loud doesn’t help. It just sits there in the air, sounding unfamiliar. Like something I don’t usually say. Because I don’t. I don’t do apologies. I don’t circle back and explain myself. If something goes wrong, I move on. That’s how I’ve always handled things. This… whatever this is… feels unnecessary. And yet. I pick up my phone. Open our chat. Close it again. There’s nothing I can type that won’t feel… off. Too formal. Too deliberate. Like I’m drafting an email instead of talking to her. I try calling. It rings. Stops. I

Maria:The message sits there longer than it should.I read it once, then again, like maybe I missed something the first time. A detail. A correction. Anything that would make it make sense.It doesn’t.I’m already moving before I decide to. Phone still in my hand, I head downstairs, past the quiet hallway, past the staff who look like they already know something I don’t.“Is there something outside?” I ask.“Yes, miss.”No hesitation.That makes it worse.The compound is wide. Open in that deliberate, expensive way where nothing feels crowded and everything has space to exist properly. It takes a few seconds to cross it, but right now it feels longer. I can hear something before I see it. A soft shift of movement, controlled, steady.Then I see it.I stop.A white stallion stands just beyond the paved stretch, near the section my father uses for things that don’t belong inside the house. It is not tucked away or hidden. It stands like it was placed there on purpose, like it knows it

Maria: “He didn’t even text.” Saying it out loud makes it feel heavier than it did in my head. It sits between us, solid, like something we can both see now. Lily doesn’t react immediately. She just looks at me, really looks this time, like she is trying to understand what I’m not saying along with what I am. “Wait,” she says finally. “What do you mean he didn’t text?” I shrug, like it’s not as strange as it sounds. “I mean exactly that. No call, no message. Nothing.” Her brows pull together slightly. “Did something happen?” she asks. “No.” “Nothing at all?” I shake my head. “Nothing.” That’s the part that bothers me. There’s nothing to point to. No argument, no misunderstanding, no moment where things went wrong. Just silence. Lily shifts on the bed, turning toward me fully now. The playful energy she had earlier is gone. This version of her is quieter, more observant. “Because this doesn’t feel random,” she says. “I thought he was just trying to adjust. Your family, eve