My chest felt tight.
A Perfect Lie and a Shared Bed
"We don't have a choice. If the staff sees us in different rooms tomorrow… you know who they work for, right?
My mother's people, they see everything," he said. "The staff. The butcher. Even the cleaner. Word gets around, you wouldn't believe it."
So, he was serious.
About the "reporter."
"So," he added, cool as you like, "we need to act like a real couple, even in here."
My eyes went back to the bed.
Oh.
Oh, damn.
I swallowed.
"You mean… we have to share the bed?"
"Yes."
No hesitation.
My hands clenched.
Before my brain could freak out completely, he spoke again, quieter, softer.
"But you don't need to worry."
I looked up.
His eyes met mine, steady.
"I won't push it, Lily," he said. "This is a deal, not… you know."
Something in me eased up a little.
"You can have your side. I'll stay on mine. If it helps, I'll keep my distance."
Distance.
He said it so easy.
So… respectful.
It was weird.
This whole thing was weird.
"...Okay," I mumbled.
That was all I could say.
He nodded, like it was done, and then switched off the main lights, just leaving the bedside lamp.
The room got quieter.
Too quiet.
We both got into the bed from opposite sides.
Carefully.
Like it was a minefield.
The mattress dipped when he got in, and I froze, suddenly aware of everything.
There was space.
Loads of it.
But still…
Why did it feel so close?
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling.
Don't think.
Just sleep.
It's just a bed.
Just a deal.
Just a stranger who's now my husband.
My husband.
The word hit me like a wall.
Alex was next to me, quiet.
No phone.
No chatter.
Barely even a twitch.
Just… there.
So still. So… removed.
Was he out?
Or just playing the part?
My brain wouldn't shut up.
This morning, my tiny apartment.
Tonight, this… place.
This morning, I was alone.
Tonight, married.
To a billionaire.
Sharing a bed.
What the hell was this?
I peeked sideways.
He was on his back, one arm down, eyes shut, face blank, even asleep.
He looked… okay.
Not scary.
Not… anything.
Just a guy.
My heart did a weird flip.
I snapped my head back to the ceiling.
Don't look.
It's all a lie.
This marriage, a lie.
This… us… a lie.
But…
Why did it feel so real?
I tugged the covers up a bit, trying not to make a sound.
The quiet wasn't awkward anymore.
It was… thick.
Full of stuff we weren't saying.
Things we couldn't ask.
And a space between us that felt safe, but also… ready to break.
Tomorrow, it all starts.
The show.
The pretending.
The new life.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Sleep wouldn't come.
Because for the first time, I was lying next to the man I was supposed to call my husband…
And I didn't know him at all.
Morning. Or was it?
I blinked, trying to remember where I was. Everything felt… slightly off. The bed was like sinking into a cloud, the ceiling too far above me, and the quiet—
It pressed in like a physical weight.
Then it came back to me.
The wedding.
The contract.
Alex.
I pushed myself up slowly, my eyes drifting around the master bedroom. Everything was spotless, arranged with a kind of deliberate precision. Like a showroom. Like a place meant to be seen, not lived in.
I took a shower, then decided to explore the house. I had been too exhausted last night to notice anything properly.
The elevator rose with a low, steady hum, filling the silence rather than breaking it. When the doors opened, I stopped without meaning to.
Black.
White.
Gray.
Minimalist shelves. Polished floors. Surfaces so clean they almost reflected the light back at me. Too clean. Too untouched.
Empty shelves. No photos. No small traces of a life. Nothing that suggested warmth. Nothing that suggested memories.
Just… space.
Just silence.
Even the kitchen felt unused.
I walked to the fridge and opened it.
Water.
Only bottles of water.
No leftovers. No snacks. No signs of someone who actually lived here.
"Welcome to my home," a voice said.
I flinched slightly and turned.
Alex stood a few steps away, already dressed, composed as ever.
"Well," he added, a faint curve touching his lips, "now it's our home."
I stood there, surrounded by cold colors and careful emptiness, and felt strangely out of place.
"Relax," he said calmly. "I don't bite."
"Okay," I murmured, my voice quieter than I intended.
He glanced around the space, as if assessing it through my eyes.
"Not much here, is there?" he said. "You're the lady of the house now. Make yourself comfortable. The staff will arrive later."
"Me?" I blinked, instinctively pointing at myself.
His gaze flicked to my face, catching the faint flush at the tips of my ears.
"Going to take some getting used to," he said lightly, "being Mrs. Alex."
My cheeks warmed, and I looked away.
"…Mm," I muttered under my breath.
He watched me for a moment, then his gaze slowly swept across the apartment again, quieter this time, more thoughtful. As if he were seeing it properly for the first time.
"…Alright," he said after a pause. "I'll stop teasing you."
His voice softened slightly. "Do you hate it?"
I shook my head quickly. "No. It's beautiful, but… it doesn't feel like a home."
He tilted his head.
"Home?" he repeated, more quietly. "What is it supposed to feel like?"
Then, softer, almost to himself,
"I've been on my own for so long… I don't really know what a home should feel like anymore. Honestly, I have no clue."
Something in his voice tightened my chest.
I looked around again at the cold palette, the empty surfaces, the lifeless perfection.
"…It lacks emotions," I said gently. "And color."
My voice softened without me realizing.
"A home should have more warmth… more life."
Silence settled between us.
Then, more practically, I added,
"And it will help the staff believe we're really married. When your mother visits, it will put her mind at ease."
Another pause.
"Deal," Alex said simply.
I blinked. "Just like that? "I thought you would at least ask for an explanation."
A quiet chuckle escaped him — brief, unexpected.
"It's our place now," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"And your reasoning is valid. So, do as you see fit."
Then his expression shifted, turning more serious.
"But the study and the bedroom are off-limits."
"Yes, sir," I replied a little too quickly.
He walked to the sofa with unhurried ease and picked up a file, as though this entire conversation had already been neatly categorized in his mind. Without looking up, he added,
"Everything else…"
A small pause.
"…is your call, Mrs. Alex."