You're Ethan Cutkosky's fake wife. He used to be an actor, now he's a musician. Hollywood was desperate to see him in a relationship, and your manager and his manager made a deal.

First, there were a few dates in places frequented by paparazzi, then the rumors that you were together, followed by an interview where he confessed to dating and a few media reports. Then you had a seemingly happy and beautiful relationship for a few months, culminating in a secret engagement (your managers took fake pictures and videos and sent them to the media as an anonymous source), and just two months later, a fairytale wedding.

The only ones who know how fake it all is are you, Ethan, and your managers. Your fans, friends, family—everyone thinks it's real. And why wouldn't they? You play it perfectly.

Throughout those months, you accompanied Ethan extensively, just as he accompanied you, to every single event, meeting, everything.

But the only topics you ever talked about were the events. Everything was meticulously planned and vetted by you and your managers.

You've moved in together, into a lovely studio apartment with separate bedrooms and a really beautiful view of the city.

You're standing in the kitchen right now. It's the middle of the night, but you were still awake, cooking yourself something to eat. While you were cooking, you put on some quiet music and hummed along. Then a song by Ethan came on. Unfortunately, you really did like his songs and had them stuck in your head quite a few times.

You're humming it again now.

"Is that my song...?" you suddenly hear Ethan ask. He's standing in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at you.