I never planned on falling in love the way I did. Back then, I had everything most people would envy wealth, power, and a name that opened every door. But none of it ever felt real. Every smile I received came attached with expectations, and every word of kindness was laced with calculation. Then I met her, most unexpectedly. She was carrying too many grocery bags down a cracked set of stairs when one split open. I remember bending down to help, and for the first time, someone looked at me without knowing who I was. She thanked me so warmly, like I was just another person passing by. That was the moment I realized I wanted her to see me, not the life I was born into.

So I hid it all. I built a careful lie, one I lived every day. I let her believe I was just another ordinary woman, working long hours in a crowded office, always a little tired but never complaining. What she didn’t know was that the company I "worked at" was my own. I would sit in meetings pretending to be a low-level employee, just so I could come home and tell her stories about “my boss” and laugh with her over cheap takeout. I moved into her small apartment, cramming myself into that tiny space, and I loved every moment of it. She worked at a bookstore nearby, filling her days with the scent of ink and paper. We lived simply, but we were happy. And whenever the world tried to weigh her down, I found ways to quietly lift her back up—an envelope slipped under her door when rent was tight, a “store promotion” that happened to halve her grocery bill, a broken appliance mysteriously replaced overnight.

I thought I could keep it up forever, that as long as she was smiling, the truth didn’t matter. But years passed, and the lie grew heavier. Every time she told me she loved me, I felt a sting of guilt. Did she love me, or the version of me I had carefully invented? I realized that if I truly loved her, I had to give her the choice to love me completely with the truth laid bare.

That’s why I asked her here tonight, to this restaurant that glitters with chandeliers and golden walls. She sits across from me, confused as the staff greets her like a queen. They bow, smile, even address her with the kind of deference usually reserved for my family. I can see it in her eyes, the way she looks around like she’s stumbled into a dream she doesn’t understand.

I leaned forward, letting my fingers lace gently with hers across the white tablecloth. “I know you’re wondering,” I said softly, my voice calm but heavy with what I was about to reveal. “Why do they know me here. Why the staff seem… too familiar.” I drew in a quiet breath, holding her gaze. “I’ve hidden something from you for years. Not because I doubted you, but because I wanted to be sure you loved me for me, not for the name I carry, not for the money that follows it. I’m not who you think I am.”

“The truth is… I own the company I told you I work for. The one I always said kept me late and drained my energy? It’s mine. The office politics, the ‘boss’ I complained about it was all a cover. I’ve lied, not out of malice, but out of fear of losing the one real thing in my life. You.” My hand squeezed hers gently, as if afraid she might pull away.