The morning rounds felt longer than usual.
Sophia moved through them with her usual precision—checking charts, speaking with patients, adjusting treatment plans—but her mind kept drifting.
She stood at the nurses' station, pen in hand, staring at a patient file she'd read three times without absorbing a single word.
Clara appeared beside her, coffee in hand. "You're doing it again."
Sophia blinked. "Doing what?"
"That thing where you look like you're working but you're actually somewhere else entirely." Clara leaned against the counter. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing."
"Right. And I'm the Queen of England." Clara took a sip of her coffee. "Does this have anything to do with a certain... coffee delivery girl?"
Sophia's jaw tightened. "Clara—"
"I'm just saying. You've been distracted since yesterday. Which, for you, is the equivalent of a full-blown crisis."
Sophia set the pen down. "I'm fine."
"Uh-huh." Clara studied her for a moment, then softened. "Look, I'm not trying to push. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing."
"I don't," Sophia admitted quietly.
Clara's eyebrows rose. "Well. At least you're honest."
Before Sophia could respond, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out.
**Marissa.**
"Dinner is set for Friday evening. 7 PM. At the house. Your father is looking forward to meeting her. Don't be late."
Sophia's stomach tightened.
Friday. That was three days away.
Clara glanced at the screen. "The stepmother?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"Dinner. Friday."
Clara whistled low. "Well, that's not much time. You and Jane better get your story straight."
Sophia stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard.
She hadn't spoken to Jane since yesterday. Just that one text exchange. Brief. Polite.
She needed to reach out. They needed to talk. To prepare.
But something stopped her.
What was she supposed to say?
*Hi, can we meet so I can coach you on how to lie to my family?*
Clara nudged her. "Hey..You're overthinking it."
"I'm not—"
"You are. Just text her. Ask her to meet. Keep it simple."
Sophia exhaled slowly, then opened her messages.
She typed carefully:
"Dinner is Friday at 7. We should meet beforehand to discuss details. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"
She stared at the message.
Professional. Direct. Not too personal.
She hit send.
Then immediately regretted it.
Clara leaned over, reading the message. "Wow. That's romantic."
"It's not supposed to be romantic."
"Could've fooled me." Clara grinned. "You sound like you're scheduling a board meeting."
Sophia shot her a look. "What was I supposed to say?"
"I don't know. Maybe something that doesn't sound like you're conducting a business transaction?"
Sophia didn't respond. She just stared at her phone, waiting.
Clara patted her shoulder. "Relax. She'll say yes."
"How do you know?"
"Because she already agreed to pretend to be your girlfriend. Compared to that, meeting for coffee is nothing."
Sophia wanted to argue, but Clara had a point.
Her phone buzzed.
She looked down.
**Jane.**
"I'm free after 3. Where do you want to meet?"
Sophia's chest loosened, just slightly.
She typed back:
"There's a park near the hospital. It's quiet. I'll send you the address."
Jane's response came quickly:
"Okay. See you then."
Sophia set her phone down, her pulse still slightly elevated.
Clara was watching her with a knowing smile. "See? Told you."
"It's just a meeting."
"Keep telling yourself that."
Sophia didn't respond. She just picked up the patient file again, trying to focus.
But her mind was already elsewhere.
Tomorrow. 3 PM.
Meanwhile at the school.
Jane sat in the back row of her economics lecture, pen in hand, notebook open.
The professor's voice droned on about supply and demand curves, but the words barely registered.
Her mind was somewhere else entirely.
The hospital. The lounge. Sophia's hand on her arm.
"This is Jane. My girlfriend."
Jane's pen stilled on the page.
She'd replayed that moment at least a dozen times since yesterday.
The look in Sophia's eyes.
The steadiness in her voice. The way her touch had felt—warm, grounding, real.
Even though it wasn't.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She glanced down, careful to keep it hidden under the desk.
**Sophia.**
Her heart jumped.
*"Dinner is Friday at 7. We should meet beforehand to discuss details. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"*
Jane stared at the message.
So formal. So... Sophia.
She could almost hear the composed tone, the carefully chosen words.
Part of her wanted to laugh. Part of her wanted to throw her phone across the room.
Instead, she typed back:
*"I'm free after 3. Where do you want to meet?"*
She hit send before she could overthink it.
The lecture continued around her. Someone coughed. A chair scraped. The professor clicked to the next slide.
Jane's phone buzzed again.
*"There's a park near the hospital. It's quiet. I'll send you the address."*
A park.
Quiet.
Jane exhaled slowly, then typed:
*"Okay. See you then."*
She set her phone down, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
Tomorrow. 3 PM.
A meeting to prepare. To get their story straight. To make sure they could pull this off without raising suspicion.
It was practical. Necessary.
So why did her chest feel tight?
"Hey."
Jane jumped slightly, turning to see her classmate—Maya—leaning over from the seat beside her.
"You okay?" Maya whispered. "You've been staring at that same page for like ten minutes."
Jane glanced down. Her notebook was blank except for the date at the top.
"Yeah," she said quickly. "Just distracted."
Maya grinned. "Boy trouble?"
Jane's lips twitched. "Something like that."
"Ooh. Spill."
"Not here."
"Later, then. I want details." Maya turned back to the lecture, still grinning.
Jane tried to focus on the board, on the professor's words, on literally anything other than tomorrow.
But it didn't work.
Her mind kept drifting back to Sophia. To the way she'd looked at her in the lounge. To the text sitting in her phone.
*We should meet.*
Jane closed her notebook slowly, then pulled out her phone again, rereading the messages.
Professional. Distant.
And yet, somehow, it still made her heart race.
She typed one more message, hesitating before sending it:
*"I'll be there."*
Then she locked her phone and forced herself to pay attention to the rest of the lecture.
But her thoughts were already three steps ahead.
Tomorrow. The park. Sophia.
And the line between pretend and real that was already starting to blur.
That evening, Sophia sat at her kitchen island, a glass of wine untouched beside her laptop.
She'd tried to work. Tried to focus on patient files, on emails, on anything productive.
But her eyes kept drifting to her phone.
Tomorrow.
She'd see Jane tomorrow.
And they'd have to talk. Really talk. About the dinner. About what they'd say. About how they'd act.
It was practical. Necessary.
So why did it feel like more?
Sophia closed her laptop, leaning back in her chair.
This was supposed to be simple. A favor. A temporary solution to a problem she'd created.
But nothing about this felt simple anymore.
Across the city, Jane lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling.
Mia was already asleep, her soft breathing filling the quiet room.
Jane's phone sat on the nightstand, screen dark.
But she could still see the messages in her mind.
*We should meet.*
*See you then.*
Three words. So ordinary. So harmless.
And yet they felt like a promise.
Jane rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
Tomorrow, she'd see Sophia again.
Tomorrow, they'd pretend to be something they weren't.
And Jane would have to keep pretending that her heart wasn't already involved.
She closed her eyes.
But sleep didn't come easily.