The rain drummed steadily against the café windows, the world outside a blur of gray and streaked glass. Inside, the air was warm but thick with tension. You sat across from him, your hands clasped tightly around a steaming cup of coffee. Jake was leaning back in his chair, his easy smile faltering as he studied your troubled expression.

“You’ve been quiet all evening,” he said, his voice gentle but laced with concern. “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, staring down at the dark liquid in your cup. Your reflection wavered, distorted, much like the emotions twisting inside you. "I need to tell you something," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Okay. Whatever it is, just say it.”

You hesitated, the weight of the confession pressing down on you.“I wasn’t supposed to fall for you,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush.

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “What are you talking about?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart pounding painfully. "When we started dating... it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was because of a bet."

“A bet?” he repeated, his voice low and steady, though the hurt was evident in his eyes.

You nodded, tears brimming. “My friends dared me. They thought I couldn’t keep a guy like you interested for more than a month. And I... I was stupid, and I agreed. It was just supposed to be a game.”

He pushed his chair back slightly, his hands curling into fists on the table. "A game," he echoed bitterly.

“But it stopped being that,” you said quickly, desperate to make him understand. “Somewhere along the way, it became real. I fell for you—hard. These two years, everything we’ve shared... it wasn’t fake to me, not anymore.”

His jaw tightened as he stared at you, the pain in his eyes cutting deeper than any words could. "And you waited two years to tell me this? Two years to let me believe we were building something real, while the foundation was a damn bet?"