Sam swirled the whiskey in her glass, the amber liquid catching the dim light of the living room. She lifted it to her lips, letting the burn settle in her chest, though it did little to chase away the heaviness pressing on her.
Alexandra's voice still echoed in her head. "I'll do my best to make this relationship look real."
Real. That word kept looping in Sam's mind, taunting her. Alexandra was only doing her job—a fake girlfriend hired to play a part, to smile and hold her hand when people were watching. None of it was supposed to mean anything.
So why did it feel like it did?
She's paid to care, Sam, she told herself bitterly, tracing the rim of her glass with her thumb. Every look, every touch, every soft laugh—it's all part of the act. You can't expect her to mean it.
But then, there were moments. Small, quiet ones. The way Alexandra's gaze lingered when she thought she wasn't looking. The way her laugh softened, real and unguarded. Those moments didn't feel staged. And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.
And then there was the bachelorette party. Sam's chest tightened. That night was just an accident, she told herself for what felt like the hundredth time. You were both drunk. It didn't mean anything.
Except it did. At least to her.
The whiskey burned again as she swallowed. You're losing your mind over someone who's literally being paid to pretend she likes you. Congratulations, Sam. New low.
Across from her, Ashley lounged on the sofa, legs crossed, eyes curious. She sipped her own glass, the faint clink of ice punctuating the quiet.
"Hey... why are you so quiet?" Ashley asked, leaning forward.
Sam exhaled slowly, staring into the amber liquid. "Ash... something happened between me and Alexandra."
Ashley nearly choked on her drink. "Wait... what? You two... did it?"
Sam's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes. At the bachelorette party."
Ashley's eyebrows shot up. "So... this is real? You're actually—?"
"No," Sam interrupted, voice low, tight. "We haven't talked since that night."
Ashley frowned. "Why not?"
Sam traced the rim of her glass with a finger, her stomach twisting. "I have no face to show her. Everything that happened... it broke the rules. The contract rules."
Ashley tilted her head, studying her friend. "So...?"
"I'm not sure if I'm just embarrassed," Sam admitted, voice barely above a whisper, "or if I'm terrified to hear the truth. That it only happened because we were drunk, and it means nothing to her."
"But it meant something to you?" Ashley pressed.
Sam stayed silent, letting the warmth of the whiskey coat her throat. Her gaze drifted to the muted lights outside the window.
"Why don't you just be real with yourself for once, Sam?" Ashley nudged gently.
Her chest ached as she admitted, almost to herself: "It meant... more than I can admit."
Ashley leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Then why don't you tell her the truth? Why don't you talk to her?"
Sam's fingers tightened around her glass, knuckles whitening. A single tear traced down her cheek. "I know I'm falling for her, Ash... but I can't."
Ashley watched silently as Sam's shoulders trembled, her words spilling out before she could stop them.
"I... I've been through heartbreak before, Ash. The kind that breaks something inside you—the kind that makes you promise yourself you'll never feel that way again. I loved someone once, too much... but she loved someone else. And when I finally saw the way she looked at that other person—the way I always wished she'd look at me—I wasn't just hurt... I was empty. I told myself I'd never open up again, never give anyone that power."
Her voice cracked softly, eyes glistening in the low light.
"But then Alexandra came along. And suddenly, she's everywhere—her laugh, her smile, the way she looks at me like I actually matter. And every time she's near, I feel... alive. Happy, even. And that's what scares me the most."
Her hands trembled slightly around the glass.
"Because I know she was paid to do all of this, Ash. That's the worst part."
She stared down at the whiskey in her glass, turning it slowly between her fingers.
"I know she's just doing her job—saying the right things, smiling at the right moments, making it all look real. And yet... here I am, falling for her anyway."
A shaky breath slipped out of her before she could stop it. "I don't even know what's real anymore. Every time she laughs, every time she looks at me like I'm the only person in the room..." Her grip tightened slightly around the glass. "I can't tell if it's her—or just the performance I paid for."
She took a small sip, the burn grounding her.
"And the most painful truth?" Her voice dropped. "Everything that's making my heart ache right now... started because she was paid to care."
Her throat worked as she swallowed.
"I'm scared, Ash. I'm scared I'm the only one falling again."
Her voice broke completely. "Because if that's true... I don't think I could survive being broken like that again."
Ashley's hand hovered near Sam's, hesitant but warm. "Sam... what if it's not just an act? What if she actually feels the same way?"
Sam let out a shaky breath, her voice cracking under the weight of uncertainty. "And what if she doesn't?"
"You'll never know if you don't try," Ashley said softly, though her tone carried a steady strength.
Sam shook her head, eyes glistening. "I've already decided... I'm ending the contract after the wedding. I can't let myself fall any deeper, Ash. The more I'm with her, the harder it gets to pretend it's not real. And I can't..." She swallowed hard, the whiskey burning down her throat but doing nothing to dull the ache in her chest. "...I can't let myself be broken again."
Ashley's expression softened, a flicker of worry in her gaze. "It's your choice, Sam. Just... make sure it's the right one. Don't let fear make it for you."
Sam lifted her glass one last time, the amber liquid trembling in the dim light. "I just... I can't let myself break again."
She set the glass down with a soft clink, thesound echoing in the stillness between them. For a long moment, neither spoke.The air felt heavy—thick with unspoken truths and a longing that hurt to breathe through. Sam sat quietly, caught between fear and hope—between what was safe and what her heart refused to let go.