Her words hung heavy in the air. I stared at her, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Isabelle’s cheeks were flushed, and she refused to meet my eyes at first. She stood up and walked to the window, still wearing my robe, looking out at the busy city street below.
“We’ve been playing this game for eight months,” she said softly. “Smiling for the photos, memorizing each other’s fake stories, acting like a happy couple in front of everyone. But every night I go to bed knowing you’re just on the other side of the wall… and it’s getting harder to remember that this isn’t real.”
My dạ dày quặn thắt with a confusing mix of panic and unexpected hope. This arrangement was supposed to be simple. Safe. No emotions. No complications. Especially not with someone as vibrant and beautiful as Isabelle.
I stood up and walked closer to her. “Isabelle… we have rules. The contract is very clear. If immigration finds out this isn’t real, we could both be deported. Everything we’ve built could fall apart.”
She finally turned around. Her eyes were glistening with emotion. She stepped closer, so close I could smell the fresh scent of my own shampoo in her hair.
“I know the rules,” she whispered. “But I can’t keep lying to myself. These past few months… cooking together, laughing at stupid movies, taking care of each other when we’re sick… it stopped feeling fake a long time ago for me.”
My hands trembled at my sides. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but the fear of breaking everything held me back. Just then, my phone buzzed again with another email — a reminder about the immigration interview and the need to provide more proof of our “genuine relationship.”
Isabelle glanced at the screen and let out a bitter laugh.
“They want proof? Fine. I’ll give them proof.” She looked straight into my eyes, her voice trembling but determined. “Because I’m falling in love with you, Jake. And I’m tired of pretending I’m not.”
The confession hit me like a wave. My heart raced uncontrollably. All the careful boundaries we had built were crumbling right there in our tiny kitchen. I didn’t know whether to kiss her or run away.
Before I could respond, she reached up and gently touched my cheek.
“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” she challenged softly. “Look me in the eyes and say this is still just a legal arrangement.”..
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