LOVE AND LIES

The Night Everything Started to Feel Real

It was a perfect Tuesday. The kind of day that feels light before you even step outside. A good day for pizza. I woke up to his message.

“Good morning. How did you sleep?”

I smiled before I even realized it. “I slept like a baby,” I replied.

“I like that phrase,” he said almost immediately. “It sounds… peaceful. Like nothing could disturb you.”

“Maybe nothing did,” I teased.

There was a pause from his end, then he said softly, “I am glad.”

Something about the way he said it stayed with me longer than it should have.

Tracy and I got ready for work. I wore a blue figure-hugging sweater dress. It had nothing to do with him. At least, that is what I told myself. But when I looked in the mirror, I knew I looked good. Somewhere deep down, I knew he would notice.

We talked throughout the day. Messages moving back and forth like we had been doing this for years. At some point, the conversation shifted to books.

“I want to start a home library,” he said.

I paused just for a second, then replied, “I love reading. I read a lot.”

It was not true. I loved the idea of reading. The version of me that read books, that sounded thoughtful and deep. But in reality, I could go years without finishing one.

“I might be the first person to launch a book in your library,” I added.

He laughed softly. “I would like that.”

And just like that, the lie settled between us like it belonged there.

We agreed to pass by a bookstore before heading to Domino’s for pizza. It was Tuesday, and they had a buy-one-get-one-free offer. That became the plan.

His office was in Canary Wharf, far from where Tracy and I worked. So we decided to meet him there at 4:30 p.m.

He valued time. I had already noticed that. So we left work early, determined to be on time. We were not. We arrived thirty minutes late, even after apologizing.

We found him inside the bookstore, standing by a shelf, scrolling through books with the same calm energy he carried everywhere.

“I knew you would be late,” he said, looking up at us.

“We are not always like this,” I replied quickly.

He smiled slightly. “I will need evidence.”

There was something about the way he looked at me that made me feel seen in a way I was not ready for. Then his eyes moved over me, slowly, intentionally.

“You look… different today,” he said.

I tilted my head. “ How different? ”

“Like you are going somewhere important,” he replied. Then, after a small pause, he added, “Like you are going on a date.”

I felt my chest tighten.

“It is just a dress,” I said lightly.

“It is not just a dress,” he said, still looking at me. “It looks good on you.”

For a moment, I forgot what I was supposed to say.

“Thank you,” I replied quietly.

He nodded, like he had said exactly what he meant and nothing more. He had already picked out two books. One was by Jeff Bezos, my favorite billionaire. The other book was about chess.

“Do you play?” he asked, handing me the chess book.

“Yes,” I said without thinking. Another lie.

“I enjoy it,” I added.

He smiled. “Good. I will not have to go easy on you then.”

I laughed, even though I had only played once in my life.

It was becoming a pattern. Matching him. Becoming what he liked. After paying for the books, we went for pizza. He insisted on paying while Tracy and I sat outside. When he came back, he had drinks in his hands.

“Orange soda?” I asked.

“It is my favorite,” he replied.

I stored that detail away like it mattered.

We sat outside, talking while waiting for the pizza. Most of the conversation was between him and Tracy, catching up on church stories. I stayed quiet, watching people pass by. That has always been my thing. Observing. Noticing the small details others ignore. He noticed.

“You have a talent,” he said suddenly.

“For what?” I asked.

“Live Google,” he replied. “You browse people as they pass.”

I laughed. “That is exactly what I am doing.”

“I do that too,” he said.

And just like that, the conversation shifted.

The two of us started pointing things out. The way people dressed, the confidence in their walk, the stories we imagined about them. We laughed at bold outfits, questioned strange fashion choices, and admired the ones who carried themselves effortlessly. It felt easy.

Natural, like we had found something that belonged to just us.

Tracy was quieter. I noticed, but I did not stop.

Later, she joked lightly, “I feel like I am third wheeling a couple.”

We laughed, but something about it stayed in the air longer than it should have. What I did not know was that Tracy had already spoken to him. She had confronted him, asked him to stop before things went too far. He had told her he was not looking to date.

She did not tell me. She chose to protect me instead.

That night, after we got home, he called. Like always, I answered. We spoke for two hours. Maybe more. The conversation felt deeper now. Warmer. Like something was building between us, even if we had not named it. That was what made Tracy finally say something.

She could see it. She could see me falling. And she was afraid of what would happen when I hit the ground.

I was building something with him. Something made of half-truths and lies. But my feelings… Those were real.