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But then there's the reality of the situation.
At our first meeting, William told me that he values honesty more than anything. It’s the very fabric of his existence. Once he discovers that I’ve been fooling him this whole time, he’s going to be so angry. Or worse: disappointed.
I turn onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest.
William's words echo in my mind – his talk of passion, warmth, and a natural connection.
Apart from the grand lie about my grandmother, I've been myself with him.
Maybe this isn't as crazy as it seems.
But can a relationship built on a foundation of lies ever really survive? Can I live with the guilt, the constant fear of being found out?
I sigh, the weight of my decision heavy on my shoulders.
I need to come clean, to tell William the truth. But the thought of losing him, of watching the light in his eyes dim when he learns who I really am, is almost too much to bear.
Because who am I? I’m just a wannabe artist working as an assistant, hiding from my whacky family and nosy town. Pretending that I’m somebody I’m not.
If he knew the truth, would he find me so adorable? Unlikely.
Even if he could bring himself to forgive me for the ruse, there’s no telling that he’d accept me as I am. We’re worlds apart.
He’s filthy rich, coming from old money, I’m so poor that I get excited when I get detergent coupons in the mail.
Lying awake in my bed, the moon casting a soft glow through the window, I find myself tangled in a web of my own making.
The room is silent, but my mind is anything but. Restlessness grips me, an unshakable need to talk to someone, to sort through this whirlwind of emotions.
I reach for my phone, dialing Sasha, my best friend and unwitting accomplice in this ever-complicating saga. She answers with a sleepy, "Hello?"
It’s probably stupid-o-clock in London, but I don’t care. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
"Sasha, it's me. I... William proposed."
There's a moment of silence before Sasha's voice perks up, "He what? Proposed? That's... amazing news!"
I sit up, hugging my knees to my chest. "Is it? I mean, he doesn't really know me, not the real me. He thinks I'm the Art Queen's granddaughter, Sasha. What have I done?"
Sasha's tone shifts from sleepy to excited. "Who cares how you find Mr. Right, Emily? This could be your happy ending."
"But what about the lie?" My voice is a whisper, laden with guilt.
Sasha's reply is quick, dismissive. "What lie? All you've said is you're the Art Queen's granddaughter. Everything else is true, right? I mean, does it really matter who our grandparents are? I mean, come on. That’s such a tiny lie."
I pause, considering her words. "But bringing him to this house... telling him the Art Queen is coming... all the messing around. He’ll feel like a joke. He’ll never trust me again."
Sasha brushes off my concerns. "You're blowing this out of proportion, Em. Just go with it."
My mind races, torn between elation and dread. "And your grandmother, will she really be at the charity event in London?"
There's a brief pause, then Sasha confirms, "Yes! And if you bring William there, he'll meet her, and everything will fall into place. Trust me, we’ll all be laughing over this one day."
I lie back down, the phone still pressed to my ear, staring at the ceiling.
Sasha's words are meant to reassure, but they only add to the turmoil inside me.
“You think I should marry him? It’s literally only been a few days…”
