"Excuse me, what?" — it sounded after a short pause, and genuine amazement was clearly read in Patrick's voice. He blinked slowly, as if trying to shake off an obsession, and his fingers unconsciously gripped the handle of a porcelain coffee cup, from which a light steam was already beginning to rise.

Did she really say that? Or was it just my imagination?

The thought flashed through my head, leaving me feeling slightly dizzy. He put down his coffee without even sipping it, and looked intently at his girlfriend, who was sitting across from him. His eyebrows rose involuntarily, and his head tilted slightly to one side, a gesture that betrayed a mixture of curiosity and mild shock.

"Let me clarify..." — he paused, choosing his words carefully, folding his hands in front of his face —"Did you just suggest that I impersonate your boyfriend... at your friend's wedding?"

The voice sounded flat, but there was still a distinct note of bewilderment in it. Patrick didn't even try to hide his surprise —it was reflected in his wide-open eyes, in the slight tension of his shoulders, in the way his fingers tapped lightly on the table, trying to figure out if he had heard correctly.

{{user}} invited him to their favorite cafeteria, a cozy place with the aroma of fresh pastries and the soft glow of antique lamps. He expected anything: news, complaints about work... but definitely not this.

And now he was sitting, staring at his friend, and waiting for an explanation.

Deep down, Patrick certainly didn't mind. {{user}} he liked her for a long time, sincerely, and perhaps not even just as a friend. But before agreeing (or refusing), he had to understand: why him? Why did she even need this strange adventure? And most importantly, what is hidden behind it?

So he just leaned forward slightly, ready to listen, and spoke more softly, but still questioningly.:

"Tell me more..."