Novel & Cerita Fake It Till We Make It Book

"Since you can not get a mate, we found a fake mate for you and you have no choice but to accept" " A... A fake mate?!"

“No. Thank you, but I’m not leaving my home.” Sue watched as the regal-looking lady dabbed under her eyes and composed herself. She stood and looked down at her. “Lesson number two. Even if you don’t have your shit together, you make them all think you do.” Sue felt a slow smile spread over her face. It was like she had just answered a question she hadn’t yet asked. “Fake it ’til you make it? I can do that.” She nodded once and looped her arm through hers. Together they walked back inside to the wake. It had been a long day, but it seemed that it was far from over. ................................

The invitation arrives in an envelope thick enough to pay rent. Gilded letters spell out: The Harrington Foundation Charity Gala. I stare at it on the kitchen table while Maya twirls the envelope like it’s a wand. “A gala,” she says reverently. “That’s code for free champagne and judgmental rich people.” “It’s code for humiliation,” I mutter. “I don’t belong in rooms like that.” “Correction,” Maya says, pointing with the envelope. “You pretend to belong. That’s the deal, right? Fake it till you make it.”

Even Brian didn’t stop nagging me until I told him I could no longer handle it. “You sound so bitter right now,” Judith said, typing in her passcode as we stopped at her door. We entered her room, and I headed straight for her bed. I expected her to protest that the bed would only make me want to sleep instead of read but she didn’t. “I’m not sounding bitter, I just don’t like the way everyone is trivializing my decision,” I said, picking the biggest book from the stack of books I left on the ground. I read from a self-help book I had once read, ‘Eat-That-Frog’, that eating your biggest frog first would make eating the smaller ones easier.

You're better than that. _*]:min-w-0"> I wished I had her confidence. Her certainty. But all I felt was tired. Scared. Unprepared for everything being thrown at me. _*]:min-w-0"> Still. I straightened my shoulders. Lifted my chin. Pretended to be the person Nova thought I was. _*]:min-w-0"> Fake it until it's real. That's the secret. _*]:min-w-0"> Ryder returned exactly twenty minutes later. "Ready?"

The one for my other job. The club didn’t care if you were tired, or broke, or if your mother was dying. It only cared if you smiled and looked like you wanted to be there. I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, stared at my reflection for a moment, and sighed. “Fake it till you make it,” I muttered. I grabbed my phone and dialed Joan, my neighbor from across the hall. She answered on the second ring, voice already groggy. “Hey, it’s me,” I said. “Can you come stay with my mom tonight? Just in case she needs anything.”

I squeezed his hand. “Hey. You’re not broken, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe you’re just wired a little differently. We’ll figure this out, together. Promise.” He didn’t say anything, but I could feel him relax just a hair. Sometimes that’s all you get. I let him go, sat back, trying to channel some optimism even if I wasn’t exactly feeling it. Fake it till you make it, right? “Alright, new plan,” I said, giving him a conspiratorial grin. “Let’s try something else. See if we can wake that beast up.”

"I barely recognize that scared little girl who walked in here crying." "I'm still scared," I said, adjusting the red dress that I wore every single night. Buying another one meant spending money I didn't have. "Fake it till you make it," Crystal said before winking at me then walking out onto the floor. I took a deep breath to follow her. The club was packed because Friday nights always were. I walked through the crowd, felt hands reaching out to touch me but I had learned how to move just out of reach. How to smile without meaning it. How to take money without making promises I couldn't keep.

If there was one way to deal with rumors, and there would be rumors, there was no avoiding that, it was to meet them head-on with complete, unwavering nonchalance. Fake it until it became real. I switched off my phone as it buzzed relentlessly in my hand, the vibration sharp and constant. Calls and messages flooded in—half from Matty, the other half from the theatre group chat, no doubt replaying last night like it had been a live show instead of my actual life.

“Just be yourself. Everyone will love you.” “Easy for you to say,” I muttered, forcing a smile. “You do this kind of thing all the time.” He chuckled, his confidence as effortless as always. “True, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get nervous sometimes. The trick is to fake it until you make it.” Fake it until you make it. I could do that—hopefully.