How Realistic Is The Fake Boyfriend App Conversation?

⚠️🌶️WARNING!: Rule #1: Don’t fall for your fake boyfriend. Rule #2: Especially when he’s sworn to destroy you.🌶️⚠️ I ruined Zane Ashford’s career with four seconds of footage and a source I trusted too fast. I’m his redemption arc, his PR save, his fake girlfriend for a reality show that could restore everything I took from him. The deal was six weeks of convincing performances. No feelings. No complications. That was the plan. But the reality? His hands on my throat while he kisses me breathless. His body pinning mine against walls when no one’s looking. His whispered confessions in the dark that sound nothing like hate. “It’s all part of the act.”Then why are you shaking?”“So are you.” We were supposed to be acting. But somewhere between the fake kisses and the real one, between the person he pretends to be and the one I keep finding in the dark—I stopped remembering which one is the lie. He still hadn’t forgiven me. And I’m not still sure I deserve it. But hatred never tasted this good.

Getting drunk and asking the cute guy at the bar to pose as your fake boyfriend at your sister’s wedding? What could possibly go wrong… Not like he is a famous HOTTER THAN ALL HECK actor who is going to ask you to marry him so that he can get more time in the spotlight now that he is no longer relevant. Surely that won’t happen…

He’s arrogant, infuriating, impossible to ignore. And most especially, the last person I had ever wanted until my cheating boyfriend leaves me exposed and vulnerable. Now, I’m forced into a fake relationship with his worst enemy. Publicly we’re perfect, privately, the sparks between us are scorching. Every touch, every stolen glance, every heated argument makes it harder to remember this is supposed to be fake. And suddenly, the man I hated isn’t just my ex's rival, he is the one I can’t stop craving.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

Lately, I've been having a weird dream consistently. In the dream, a man with a mole near the corner of one eye keeps telling me, "I miss you so much." But whenever I try to take a good look at him, I wake up from the dream. That is, until I spot the man in my dreams on a pop-up window featuring an advertisement that promotes chatting with AI bots. There, I personally craft every inch of that man, making him my perfect AI boyfriend. But right after I uninstall the app, he appears in my apartment in person.

On my birthday, I accidentally found out that the boyfriend I had secretly loved for three years and happily dated for one was actually hired by my father. It was a one-year contract with an eight-figure payout, and his mission was to make me realize the hardships of dating for love so that I’d accept an arranged marriage. Standing at the corner of the corridor, I overheard my boyfriend on the phone with my father. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hill. Everything is going exactly according to plan. I’ll crush her hopes. I guarantee that before the contract expires, she will be entirely done with me. After that, she’ll willingly marry whoever you’ve arranged for her.” I quietly followed him back to his private room, only to hear his friends teasing him. “Man, that heiress is so incredibly gullible. You put on a little show, and she bought it. She’s so naive.” “You didn’t actually fall for her, did you? How much longer do you have to keep this up anyway? Ruby has been waiting for you for a long time!” He let out a low grunt in agreement. “She’s just a client, and a client whose contract is about to expire, at that. Besides, her dad just paid way too much to pass up.” The group paused for a second and then burst into a collective roar of laughter. Standing outside, I smiled too. I had heard of renting a girlfriend before, but this was my very first time encountering a professional boyfriend. Since everyone here was such a brilliant actor, it would be a shame not to play this game to the bitter end. After all, wouldn’t it be a waste of Mr. Hill's massive investment otherwise?