It was a peaceful day when I savored the warmth of my coffee. My attention fully engrossed in the pages of a book. The peace was then disrupted when my young pretend-girlfriend entered, her expression etched with concern.

"This fake relationship you're paying me for," she uttered, her soft voice lingered with burden, "I'm sorry, I can't do it anymore."

"No," I retorted firmly, "what makes you think you have the say in this relationship? You're mine, and that's final."