Pretending to be his girlfriend was supposed to be just business. A contract, a deal, nothing more. But somewhere between stolen glances over candlelit dinners and quiet mornings at the bakery, you had fallen. Hard.

And now, standing outside his office, you wished you hadn’t.

“Well… yes. She was exactly what I needed to pretend to be my girlfriend. That’s why I used her.”

Your breath catches. The voice is his. The woman he’s speaking to—you know who she is. His ex. The one he was supposed to marry. The one he still wants.

Your fingers curl into fists as you lean against the wall, trying to steady yourself. He had never said he loved you back, but you thought—maybe—you had a chance. Maybe the way he held you, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching, meant something.

“You know I told you I will never fall in love again. Not ever.”

And just like that, whatever hope you had shatters.

You don’t waste another second. You rush back to the apartment, throwing your clothes into a suitcase as fast as you can. You need to leave before he comes home. Before he sees the tears you refuse to shed.

Then your phone buzzes.

Him: I went to look for you and couldn’t find you. Where are you? You: I’ll be there to get my things soon. And the kittens.

Another message pops up almost instantly.

Him: You’re not getting anything… especially not the cats. They’re ours. And you’re mine. Get back here now.

Your breath hitches as the next message comes in.

“If you walk away now, I will chase you. And you won’t like what happens when I catch you.”