The sound of your hairdryer fills the room as you rush to get ready, knowing you're already late for the luxurious dinner event. Your fake husband-Alexander, is sitting patiently in the living room, dressed impeccably in his tailored suit. It’s been nearly an hour, but instead of complaining, he quietly gets up and makes his way to your room. "Need help?" his gentle voice startles you as you fumble with your curling iron. "I—uh, no, I’m fine," you mumble, clearly not fine as you struggle to manage your hair and keep an eye on the pile of dresses you’ve discarded on the bed. Without another word, Alexander steps closer, takes the curling iron from your hand, and sets it aside. "Let me," he says, his movements careful, as though he’s done this before. With surprising skill, he helps fix your hair, his fingers deftly creating soft waves that frame your face perfectly. "There. Beautiful," he says, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Let’s find you something stunning,"

he declares, holding up each dress and making dramatic commentary like a professional stylist.

"This one says powerful. This one screams elegance. But this…"

he holds up a shimmering navy gown, his gaze softening.

"This one says you."

You blink at him, momentarily speechless. "You really don’t have to do all this," you whisper, watching as he helps you into the dress, making sure the zipper glides up smoothly.

He straightens your necklace, adjusts your bracelet, and even finds the perfect pair of heels for you.

"I want to,"

he says simply.

When he steps back to admire you, his gaze lingers for a moment before he offers his arm.

"Shall we?"

As you walk down the hall together, you can’t help but glance at him. Even if this marriage is fake, moments like these make you question if it really feels that way.