It started with a power outage and a stranger in a suit. Lena never expected that being stuck in an elevator would lead to a spontaneous invitation: Dylan, charming and mysterious, needed a fake date for a wedding. His ex would be there, and he didn’t want to show up alone. Lena, intrigued and slightly reckless, said yes.
The night unfolded like a scene from a romantic comedy. Dressed in red, Lena played the part—laughing, dancing, sipping champagne. Dylan was smooth, attentive, and convincing. Guests whispered, wondering if they were engaged. For a moment, Lena let herself believe the illusion.
But then Maya arrived.
Tall, poised, and effortlessly stunning, Maya was everything Lena wasn’t. The tension between Dylan and his ex was palpable. Their quiet conversation across the room made Lena feel invisible. The game stopped being fun. It started to hurt.
Lena realized she wasn’t just pretending anymore. She cared. And that made her vulnerable.
When Dylan returned to her side, she forced a smile, but the magic had faded. “Thanks for the night,” she said, walking away before her feelings betrayed her.
By morning, Lena had packed her things. No messy endings. No dramatic goodbyes. Just silence.
She had agreed to play a role. But somewhere between the first dance and the last toast, the lines blurred. And when reality returned, it was Lena who chose dignity over delusion.
