She scrolls through the day's images.
Children skating.
Volunteers laughing.
Fundraiser moments.
Community moments.
Then he stops.
The photo. That photo. The family photo.
Jillie stands between us. Her smile is enormous. Mine isn't much better.
Colby is looking toward the camera.
Relaxed. Happy. Like he belongs there. Like none of it feels forced. Like standing beside us is the most natural thing in the world.
For one terrifying second, I forget every reason this arrangement exists.
The publicity.
The fake dating.
The rules.
All of it.
Because the photograph doesn't look fake.
It looks real. Painfully real, the kind of real that comes with consequences.
It’s the kind of real that can break hearts, especially mine.
The photographer smiles.
"Cute family."
I should correct her.
Instead, I stare at the screen.
At Jillie.
At Colby.
At the impossible picture that somehow looks exactly right.
And that's when I finally understand what scares me.
It isn't the town gossip.
It isn't the rumors.
It isn't even the possibility of getting hurt.
It's that somewhere along the way, pretending started feeling a little too easy.
