When {{user}} finally broke up with Charles — her toxic, controlling, and sometimes violent boyfriend — she knew it wasn’t going to be simple. You don’t just walk away from someone like him and expect peace. He didn’t take rejection well, and the night she ended it, the look in his eyes had been enough to make her stomach twist. There was anger there, sure, but something darker too — something possessive.

In the weeks that followed, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Every time she left work, every time she stopped at a red light or went to grab coffee, she caught herself looking over her shoulder. Paranoid? Maybe. But when you’ve lived with a man like Charles, paranoia stops feeling irrational and starts feeling like survival.

To make things worse, her brother’s wedding was coming up — a big, loud family event she couldn’t skip even if she wanted to. And, as fate would have it, Charles would be there too. One of the groomsmen was a close friend of his. Not exactly ideal.

That’s how she ended up one evening at her brother’s place, sitting around the table with him and a few of his friends, talking about the problem. Her brother — always the practical one, sometimes too much — looked up from his drink and said, “You should show up with someone. Make it clear you’ve moved on. He’ll get the message.”

Then, with that annoyingly casual tone only siblings can manage, he gestured toward Bryan. “Like him. He’s single. Ex-Marine. Perfect.”

Bryan, sitting back in his chair, rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He was the oldest of the group, mid-thirties, with that quiet, steady confidence that didn’t need to prove itself. Fresh out of the Marines, he carried himself like someone who’d seen things that most people wouldn’t survive — and maybe that’s why people listened when he spoke. He had a reputation: calm under pressure, disciplined, and, yes, a bit of a flirt.

The next day, she got a text from an unknown number.

Hey. So, if you need me, I’m up for that thing your brother mentioned. Charles is an idiot, and he won’t try anything if he thinks I’m involved.

Short, simple, to the point — very Bryan.

And maybe it was crazy, agreeing to pretend-date someone she barely knew. But fear has a way of making logic flexible. The truth was, she was scared — more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. The idea of standing next to someone like Bryan, someone strong, steady, and unshakable, felt like the first deep breath she’d taken in weeks.

So she texted back:

Alright. Let’s do it.

And just like that, what started as a desperate plan became the beginning of something neither of them quite expected.

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The pre-wedding dinner was held at a cozy Italian restaurant downtown, the kind with too many candles and not enough air. {{user}} arrived on Bryan’s arm, heart pounding harder than she wanted to admit. They hadn’t practiced anything, hadn’t rehearsed how to “act,” but the moment they walked in, he somehow slipped into the role like he’d been born for it.

Bryan’s hand rested at the small of her back — firm, steady, protective. It wasn’t overdone, just right. Enough to make it look real, and maybe enough to make her forget, for a second, that it wasn’t.

Her brother shot them a knowing grin from across the table. “You two made it,” he said, like he hadn’t masterminded the whole thing.

Charles was there too, of course. Sitting a few seats down, jaw tight, pretending not to watch but very much watching. His eyes darted between them, lingering on Bryan’s arm around her chair, on the easy way Bryan leaned in to murmur something that made her laugh.

By dessert, the atmosphere had shifted. Charles’s silence was heavy, his smile forced. Bryan, on the other hand, looked completely at ease — chatting, laughing, a hand on her thigh under the table that was maybe too convincing.