Lena's pov
I hated this part.
The part where I had to pretend I needed someone else to cover my back.
"Lena, you don't get it," Director Mason said, his voice flat but firm, like I was a stubborn kid who wouldn't listen. "You're an undercover agent working for the country. This mission isn't just about you—it's about national security. You need a fake boyfriend to make your cover believable. You follow orders because the company comes first."
I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I don't need a fake boyfriend," I shot back, my voice steady though my heart raced. "I can do this alone. I always have."
His eyes didn't soften. "This is an order, not a suggestion."
I bit back the urge to argue more. Arguing with him never changed anything. "Fine," I said, voice cold. "But if this blows up because of a fake relationship, don't say I didn't warn you."
I left his office before he could respond.
---
Outside, the campus buzzed with life—students laughing, rushing between classes, living normal, uncomplicated lives.
Yes, I'm just a normal university student, I thought, walking toward the library. But I have a secret. I'm an undercover spy that comes alive at midnight.
The tension from the meeting clung to me, but I shoved it down. The library. Quiet. Safe. Normal.
I pushed through the doors and scanned the room. Then I saw him.
Ethan Cole.
He sat under the old oak tree visible through the window, guitar resting beside him like a loyal companion. His notebook lay open, scribbled with messy chords and lyrics. His dark hair brushed his eyes, his fingers softly tapping a rhythm on the strings.
Something about him was calming, steady—the opposite of everything inside me.
I swallowed hard and stepped outside.
"Hey," I said, voice softer than I expected.
He looked up, surprised. His eyes wide, caught off guard.
"I'm Lena," I said, offering a small smile. "Mind if I sit?"
He nodded, and I sat beside him.
For a moment, silence stretched between us, filled only by the distant sounds of campus life.
Then I decided I couldn't tell him the truth—not yet.
"So," I said, forcing a casual tone, "I need a fake boyfriend."
He blinked, puzzled.
"To make my ex jealous," I added quickly, hoping the excuse sounded believable enough.
He smiled, a slow, easy smile. "That sounds like trouble."
I laughed softly, hoping my eyes didn't betray the secret I was keeping.
"Yeah," I said, "maybe it is."
He shifted slightly, glancing down at his guitar before looking back at me. "So… this ex of yours—sounds like someone not worth the trouble."
I smiled, a little forced but warm enough to keep the act going. "Yeah, definitely. Someone who thinks they can just walk away without consequences."
Ethan chuckled softly, the kind of laugh that made his eyes light up. "Well, if you need help making him jealous, I'm your guy. I play a mean guitar and I'm pretty good at pretending."
His words caught me off guard. For a moment, I almost wanted to tell him the truth. But I swallowed it down. This was supposed to be simple. Just a fake boyfriend. Nothing more.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "I might take you up on that."
We sat there for a while, the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves, the world moving at a slower pace. For the first time that day, I felt a flicker of something I hadn't in a long time: hope.
Maybe this mission wouldn't be so bad after all.
Maybe… just maybe, I wouldn't have to do it alone.