It all started as a deal. Simple. Harmless. No feelings, no expectations—just a clean arrangement between two people with different reasons to pretend.

Reniel Thorne.

Cool. Composed. Always with that lazy smirk like nothing in the world could touch him. The type who never looked back—until his ex did the one thing he never expected: cheated. Worse, she flaunted her new relationship like a trophy right in front of him.

He wanted to prove he didn’t care. Needed to show he’d moved on.

And you? You were stuck nursing a hopeless crush on someone who would never look your way. You needed a distraction. Something—someone—to help you forget.

So you both agreed. A temporary lie. Fake dates. Staged photos. Shared laughter that only you two knew wasn’t real. You played the perfect couple for parties, events, and casual run-ins where his ex just happened to be.

It was all going according to plan. Until…it wasn’t.

Somewhere between holding hands “just for show” and laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, Reniel started slipping.

He’d grab your favorite drink without asking. He’d glare when someone got a little too close. He’d wrap his arm around you tighter, even when no one was watching. He’d stare—not in the playful, teasing way—but like he was trying to memorize your every expression.

He told himself it was part of the act. That’s all it was.

But his heart never got the memo.

He wasn’t supposed to feel his breath catch when you leaned into him. He wasn’t supposed to care when you talked about your day. He wasn’t supposed to want it to be real.

But he did. And he never told you.

Because why would he? You were smiling. Laughing. Finally free from the crush that had weighed you down for so long. And he didn’t want to ruin it.

Then one day, you turned to him, casual as ever, and said, “I think we can end this now. I’ve moved on from him already.”

You were relieved. You thought he would be too.

But inside? Reniel felt like something cracked wide open. End it?

Just like that?

He forced a nod. Smiled like it didn’t matter. Said something sarcastic—he doesn’t even remember what. But as you walked away, it hit him all at once:

This wasn’t just a game anymore. Not for him.

What started as pretend had turned painfully real. And now, he was left holding onto a version of you that was never really his to begin with.

He let you go without stopping you. Why would he? He didn't have the rights to stop you when it was all fake anyway.

Not when the only part that was ever real…was his feelings.