Lena's pov
The next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the blinds of my small apartment as I stared at my phone. A simple text blinked on the screen:
"Ready to start the boyfriend act?" — Ethan
My fingers hovered over the screen, hesitation twisting in my stomach. This wasn't just a game. Not something I could take lightly. It was a mission. A risk. And maybe… a trap.
When I reached Ethan's dorm building, my heart hammered so loudly I was sure he could hear it from inside. The crisp autumn air did little to cool the heat rising inside me. Around me, the campus bustled—students laughing, rushing, oblivious to the secrets I carried.
I'd spent years learning how to keep my emotions locked down tight. But today, every step felt heavier.
I rehearsed my lines, tried to steel my nerves. Fake boyfriend. The words sounded hollow.
Then the door swung open.
There he was—Ethan Cole, guitar case slung over his shoulder, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.
"Hey, fake boyfriend," I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "That's a new title. I think I like it."
We stepped inside, dodging groups of students chatting and heading to classes. The dorm's common lounge was quieter, a small sanctuary where I could catch my breath.
We settled into a corner, the weight of unspoken things filling the space between us.
"So, how do we make this work?" Ethan asked, voice low and earnest.
I pulled out my notebook, flipping through pages filled with half-formed plans and reminders. "We have to be natural. Texts, meetups, photos — all timed perfectly. Like we're really together."
He nodded thoughtfully. "No awkward moments, no slip-ups."
I forced a smile, but inside, the truth was gnawing at me. This wasn't just a pretend relationship for me. It was survival. If I messed up, if I let even the smallest thing slip, everything—my life, the mission—could fall apart.
And yet, there was something about Ethan's steady presence that unsettled me in a different way.
I glanced at him. His eyes, honest and open, made me want to tell him everything. To drop the walls I'd built so carefully.
But I couldn't. Not yet.
Because if he knew the truth—about who I really was, what I was risking—he might run away. Or worse, get caught in the crossfire.
So I kept my secrets close.
And let the lie grow.
---
Back home that night, I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Lena Cruz, I whispered. Just a normal university student.
But beneath that calm surface was a different reality.
I was a spy. An agent trained to hide in plain sight. To live two lives: one by day, one by night.
The mission was clear. Follow orders. Stay sharp.
Fake a relationship.
Make my ex jealous.
Simple.
Except nothing about this was simple.
Because somewhere deep inside, I was already starting to care.
And that scared me more than anything else.