You and Liam agree to fake a relationship — for work, for image, for convenience. It’s a clean arrangement. Appearances only.

You pose for photos, hold hands at dinners, exchange inside jokes for show. It’s all pretend… until it isn’t.

He starts remembering little things — your coffee order, your favorite song. You find yourself leaning into him more, laughing easier. The touches last a second longer. The silences grow softer.

One night, after a party, he walks you to your door. You turn to say goodbye, but neither of you moves.

No words. Just the quiet space between you shrinking.

He brushes your hair behind your ear. You look up at him — and it’s all there. In his eyes. In yours.

You don’t speak. You don’t have to.

The act ended a long time ago.