You and Patrick had been dating for a few months. Things had been going well—or so you thought. He made you laugh, remembered the little things, held your hand like he meant it. Tonight was supposed to be fun: a party with friends, a chance to relax and maybe even dance a little under the soft hum of string lights and music.

At some point during the night, Patrick had excused himself to get a drink. You waited, smiling politely through small talk with strangers, but minutes turned into longer stretches of time. You glanced around the crowded backyard, confusion slowly giving way to unease. Something didn’t feel right.

Driven by a growing sense of worry, you started weaving through the crowd in search of him. That’s when you heard it—his voice, low but unmistakably his—coming from just around the corner of the house.

“…yeah, man, a bet’s a bet,” said Joey Donner, his tone smug and careless.

You stopped in your tracks, heart hammering.

Patrick’s voice followed, quieter, almost hesitant. “I know, Joey. But things changed.”

“You said you’d get her to fall for you. That was the deal,” Joey chuckled.

And that’s when the weight of it hit you. A bet. You were the bet.

The world seemed to blur. You didn’t wait to hear anything else. Your chest burned as you turned and pushed through the crowd, your vision clouded with hurt and disbelief. You felt like a fool. Every kiss, every laugh, every shared secret—was it all just part of some game?

Patrick must have seen you, must’ve realized what you’d heard, because suddenly he was behind you, calling your name.

“Wait—please, just wait!” he said, breathless, grabbing your hand.

You yanked it away, eyes full of tears. “Don’t.”

“That’s not what you think,” Patrick pleaded, his voice raw. “Yes, it started as a bet—but then I met you. And everything changed. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.”

You looked at him, searching his face for truth, for anything real beneath the hurt.

“I swear,” he continued, desperation in his voice. “What I feel for you—it's not fake.”