The first light of morning seeped through the blinds, scattering thin stripes of gold across the room. Adrian was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Zara lay on her side, staring at him without really seeing him, her thoughts tangled and restless.
The room was quiet, but the tension between them was almost tangible. They weren't touching, not yet, but the proximity was enough to make her pulse quicken. The warmth radiating from him, the low hum of his breath—it all made her aware of every small movement, every tiny shift in the air between them.
Her hand brushed the sheets, pretending to adjust the blanket, to organize something—anything—to keep her mind from dwelling on him. It was supposed to be pretend. All of this was supposed to be a performance.
"Zara…" Adrian's voice broke the silence, low and deliberate. She froze.
He turned slowly to face her, eyes locking on hers as if he could read the thoughts she tried so desperately to hide. The moment stretched, fragile and dangerous, until she forced herself to look away, focusing on the corner of the ceiling instead.
"Morning," he said finally, his tone casual but tinged with something unspoken.
"Morning," she replied quickly, sitting up to create distance between them. She picked up her phone from the bedside table, pretending to check the time, pretending to care about anything other than the way his gaze lingered.
Adrian stood and moved toward the wardrobe, but his movements were hesitant, measured, as though even the simple act of walking carried weight. "We should get ready," he said. "Don't want to be late."
"Right," she murmured.
The morning routine was awkward, a dance of careful movements and intentional avoidance. Zara folded the blanket, smoothed the sheets, and focused on these mundane tasks, though her mind refused to obey. Every sound—the brush of his sleeve against hers, the scrape of his shoe against the floor—made her jump slightly, made her heart spike.
Downstairs, the house was hushed. The staff had learned over time to give them privacy in the mornings. Zara poured herself a cup of tea, hands wrapped around the warm mug, grateful for the distraction it provided.
Adrian leaned against the counter, arms crossed, studying her with a sharp, unreadable expression. "You're quiet."
"So are you," she replied lightly, though the words sounded hollow even to her.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Fair," he said.
The pause that followed was heavy, charged. She took a sip of tea, careful not to burn her tongue, aware of every small sound in the room—every subtle movement of him.
"Careful," he murmured instinctively, stepping closer.
"I'm fine," she said quickly, though her chest had already started racing.
He stopped mere inches from her, too close again, and for a moment, the world contracted to just the two of them. His eyes, usually guarded and precise, held something softer, something unrestrained. Something she wasn't ready for.
Zara broke eye contact first. "We should leave," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
The drive to the office was quieter than usual, the kind of silence that hums with unspoken thoughts. Adrian kept his hands on the wheel, but his attention flickered toward her more often than he realized. Each glance made her heart stutter.
"Your mother called last night," Zara said, adjusting her seatbelt at a red light.
Adrian glanced at her, expression unreadable. "Planning another surprise dinner?"
"She wants us to visit this weekend," Zara replied.
"Us." The word lingered in the air between them, heavy with meaning.
"Did you say yes?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.
"I told her we'd confirm," she replied. "I thought I should ask you first."
Adrian nodded slowly. "That was… considerate."
She shrugged. "It's part of the arrangement, right?"
"Right," he echoed, though the word felt fragile, unconvincing.
When they reached the office, Adrian's posture shifted instantly, back to the familiar armor of confidence. But before letting go of that persona entirely, he reached for her hand.
Zara froze for half a second before slipping her fingers into his. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly, a silent reassurance—or perhaps a warning. Too real.
They walked through the lobby, the whispers following them like shadows. Curious glances lingered, and Zara felt her heart tighten at the attention.
"They're staring," she whispered.
"They always do," he murmured. "Just smile."
Her practiced smile came easily enough, but the small brush of his thumb against her knuckles sent a jolt through her chest. They stopped near the elevator, where a colleague complimented them on how "perfect" they looked together.
Adrian smiled politely, Zara laughed on cue, and the performance continued. Perfect. Flawless. Dangerous.
The elevator ride was suffocatingly short. As soon as the doors closed, Adrian let go of her hand, and the sudden absence echoed loudly in the confined space.
"That was exhausting," Zara said quietly.
"You did great," he said.
"You too," she replied.
Their eyes met again, and for a single heartbeat, the distance between them felt fragile, like it could vanish with one careless step.
Adrian cleared his throat, stepping back. "I'll see you later."
"Yeah," she murmured.
The day passed in a blur. Zara tried to immerse herself in her work, but her mind kept drifting to the morning—his hand, his gaze, the way his voice had softened when he spoke her name.
That evening, she gathered her things at her desk when Adrian appeared quietly.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Already?"
"Long day," he said, a faint smile brushing his lips.
They walked out together, the routine comforting but tense. At the car, Adrian hesitated before opening the door for her.
"Zara," he said softly.
"Yes?"
"There's a charity event tomorrow night," he said, voice low. "Media will be there. I need you with me."
"I know," she replied, heart tightening. "I'll be there."
"That's not what I mean," he whispered, voice softer still. "I… need you."
The honesty hit her like lightning. She nodded slowly, overwhelmed by the weight of his words. "Okay."
The drive home was silent, but the quiet no longer felt empty. It was full—of unsaid words, stolen glances, dangerous emotions neither of them dared voice.
That night, Zara lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Their pretending was no longer convincing.
And that scared her more than anything.
Because if the act stopped being fake… neither of them might survive the truth.
✨ Will their lie withstand the growing danger, or will the truth tear everything apart?
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Author's Note 💙
Thank you so much for reading Accidental Love, Intentional Lies. Your support means the world! Every comment, vote, and library addition helps the story reach more readers and keeps Zara and Adrian's journey alive.
With love,
Amanda Ahamefule Ugosinachi