Falling For My Fake Fiancee
She played her part flawlessly—laughing at the right moments, touching my arm, even whispering something sarcastic that made me bite back a smile.
When the time came, I lifted her hand, letting the lights catch on the diamond ring I’d placed there hours earlier. The cameras exploded in a frenzy.
“To new beginnings,” I said to the gathered crowd, my voice perfectly polished.
She looked up at me, eyes glinting with something dangerously close to real amusement. “To bad decisions,” she murmured back.
The photographers loved it.
Hours later, the gala was over, the city quiet again. We stood in the elevator, side by side, the air thick with exhaustion and something else neither of us could name.
Bab Populer