My Beautiful New Neighbor Knocked at Midnight… Then Asked Me to Pretend We Were Engaged…

“Marry Julian by Sunday, or stop calling me your daughter,” my mother told me three days before my sister’s wedding. Ten months after I left him, my controlling ex was still making decisions about my future—and apparently had documents bearing my signature to prove it. At 12:14 a.m., I knocked on my handsome neighbor’s door and begged him to pretend to be my fiancé. I had known Graham Keene for eleven days. By morning, my family believed we were getting married, my ex was preparing a public confrontation, and a career opportunity I had rejected was suddenly marked accepted. I thought I was telling the biggest lie that weekend. I wasn’t even close.

PART 1 — A Midnight Lie Turns My Family’s Wedding Into a Trap

“Get yourself back together with Julian before Sunday, or don’t bother showing up in the family wedding pictures.”

My mother’s voice came through my phone so clearly that the woman standing beside me in the grocery store turned around.

“Mom, I’m not getting back together with him.”

“Then stop embarrassing me, Mara.”

Click.

That was my mother, Celia Bellamy. Sixty-one years old, president of two charity committees, and apparently under the impression that having a daughter meant owning the copyright to her decisions.

I stood beside the refrigerated biscuit dough at a Stop & Shop in Providence, Rhode Island, holding a carton of milk I suddenly didn’t want.

My younger sister, Tessa, was getting married Saturday.

And somehow, my breakup had become the family emergency.

My name is Mara Bellamy. I’m twenty-nine, a pediatric physical therapist, and until ten months earlier, I’d been engaged to Julian Mercer, a successful healthcare consultant with perfect teeth and a remarkable talent for making me question my own memory.

Julian didn’t scream.

He smiled while explaining why my opinions were inconvenient.

He called my boundaries insecurity, my exhaustion ingratitude, and my career ambitions something we’d discuss once he had time.

The day he accepted a hospital director position on my behalf without asking me, I finally understood what our marriage would look like.

I gave him back his ring.

He told everyone I was having an emotional breakdown.

My mother believed him.

So I moved to Providence, accepted a position at a children’s rehabilitation center, and bought myself something I’d been missing for years.

A front door nobody else controlled.

Unfortunately, my mother still had my phone number.

Six weeks before Tessa’s wedding, Mom announced that Julian would be attending as a family guest.

“He’s practically our son,” she said.

“He’s my ex-fiancé.”

“Don’t be childish.”

So I told her I was seeing someone.

When she demanded a name, I invented one.

When she asked whether it was serious, I said yes.

And when she announced Julian would be bringing the engagement ring he’d once given me, I panicked.

I told her I was already engaged to another man.

That was how Graham Keene became my fiancé.

Without knowing it.

At 12:14 Friday morning, I stood outside his townhouse door, wearing jeans, mismatched earrings, and my grandmother’s vintage sapphire ring.

I knocked three times.

Graham opened the door in a gray T-shirt and sweatpants.

He was thirty-three, broad-shouldered, annoyingly attractive, and looked like a man who organized his tax receipts before April.

“Mara?”

“I need you to marry me.”

He blinked.

“That’s a strong opening.”

“Fake marry me.”

“Still strong.”

“My family thinks we’re engaged. They’re downstairs. They’re coming up. I need you to pretend.”

He stared at me.

We’d been neighbors for eleven days.

Our entire relationship consisted of borrowing a screwdriver, arguing about the best bakery on Wickenden Street, and carrying a ridiculously heavy bookcase up my stairs.

He worked as a project manager for a marine engineering company.

He drank his coffee with one sugar.

He separated his recycling properly.

And I was asking him to commit social suicide for a woman who still had his drill.

“Please say something,” I whispered.

“Does your family know I’ve never proposed?”

“That’s sort of the problem.”

My phone buzzed.

MOM: We’re in the lobby. Don’t keep us waiting.

Graham read my expression.

“Okay,” he said. “Come inside.”

I nearly fell through the doorway.

“Really?”

“Three rules. No inventing things about my family. No surprise kissing. And tomorrow, you tell me exactly how this happened.”

“Deal.”

“And Mara?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you need to borrow something, try a ladder.”

I laughed.

For the first time in three days, my stomach unclenched.

Then the buzzer rang.

Five minutes later, my mother entered Graham’s living room wearing a camel coat that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

Tessa followed, along with her fiancé, Ben Sawyer.

Mom looked Graham up and down.

“So. You’re the mysterious fiancé.”

Graham extended his hand.

“Graham Keene. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bellamy.”

“Celia.”

She said it like she was interviewing him for a job he probably couldn’t afford to have.

Tessa spotted my ring.

“Grandma Evelyn’s sapphire? Seriously?”

“It seemed right,” I said.

Mom narrowed her eyes.

“Julian bought you a three-carat diamond.”

“And I gave it back.”

Graham slipped his hand into mine.

“I like this one better.”

Mom stared.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s hers. It has a story. That’s worth more than a price tag.”

Tessa smiled into her coat collar.

Mom did not.

She spent the next forty minutes questioning us.

How did we meet?

How long had we been dating?

Where had he proposed?

Why hadn’t she been informed?

“Five months,” Graham said.

“Six,” I said simultaneously.

Silence.

He squeezed my hand.

“Six if you count the month Mara insisted we weren’t dating.”

Tessa snorted.

I wanted to kiss him.

Which was inconvenient, considering Rule Two.

By 1:45 a.m., Mom finally announced they were leaving for their hotel.

I almost celebrated.

Then she stopped in the doorway.

“Rehearsal dinner. Six o’clock. Graham will attend, obviously.”

“Mom—”

“And Julian is looking forward to meeting him.”

She smiled.

Not warmly.

More like she’d just placed a chess piece exactly where she wanted it.

After they left, I leaned against Graham’s front door.

“I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me several.”

“And probably dinner.”

“Breakfast first. Nine tomorrow.”

He glanced at my grandmother’s ring.

“Does your family always interrogate people after midnight?”

“Only people they don’t approve of.”

“Good. I’m already a disappointment. Less pressure.”

I laughed again.

But when I got home, my phone held a new message.

JULIAN: Looking forward to seeing your replacement tomorrow. We have unfinished business.

I blocked the screen.

Julian had been calling our breakup unfinished for ten months.

Apparently, he hadn’t noticed I was gone.

At nine the next morning, Graham met me at a little bakery near the waterfront.

He’d already ordered my coffee.

Black. No sugar.

“You remembered?”

“You complained about sweet coffee for eleven straight minutes last Tuesday.”

“That sounds like me.”

We sat by the window while delivery trucks rattled along the street.

I told him everything.

The four years with Julian.

The job offer he’d accepted without permission.

The way my mother treated my relationship like a family investment she’d refused to write off.

And the lie that had gotten completely out of hand.

Graham listened without interrupting.

When I finished, he asked one question.

“Did you ever actually accept that director job?”

“No.”

“Do you have that in writing?”

I frowned.

“I emailed the recruiter declining it. Why?”

“Because a man who ignores one no usually doesn’t stop there.”

His words bothered me.

Not because they sounded dramatic.

Because they sounded accurate.

I checked my email.

The original rejection was still there.

Dated ten months earlier.

Underneath it sat a new message from an unfamiliar administrator at Blackstone Pediatric Rehabilitation, the hospital system where Julian had wanted me to work.

Subject: Confirmation of Your Accepted Employment Agreement

My coffee went cold.

I opened the attachment.

There was my name.

A $142,000 annual salary.

A relocation provision.

And an electronic signature dated three weeks earlier.

Mara E. Bellamy.

I had never signed it.

At the bottom, another name appeared.

Julian Mercer — Consulting Liaison.

Graham leaned toward the screen.

“Tell me that’s a mistake.”

I stared at the signature.

My ex hadn’t just refused to accept our breakup.

He had apparently found a way to continue my life without me.

And in nine hours, I was supposed to sit across from him at my sister’s rehearsal dinner.

PART 2 — My Ex Arrives Smiling With Paperwork I Never Actually Signed

Julian Mercer arrived at the rehearsal dinner carrying a manila envelope like it was a wedding present.

I knew that smile.

I’d seen it when he canceled my vacation without asking.

When he told my coworkers I was emotionally unstable.

When he explained that controlling my schedule was simply his way of loving me.

Graham noticed my shoulders tighten.

“Want to leave?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay. I’m right here.”

The dinner was being held at a restored waterfront hotel overlooking Narragansett Bay.

Crystal glasses. White tablecloths. Expensive flowers.

And my mother, looking thrilled to have her favorite two men in the same room.

Julian approached our table.

“Mara. You look healthy.”

“That’s a strange compliment.”

“Considering everything you’ve been through.”

Graham stood.

“Graham Keene.”

Julian shook his hand.

“So you’re the new fiancé. That happened quickly.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Julian smiled.

“I’m surprised Mara hasn’t told you about our history.”

“She has.”

That wiped a little polish off his expression.

Dinner started badly.

Mom kept mentioning Julian’s accomplishments.

His consulting contracts.

His new car.

His professional connections.

Then she raised her champagne glass.

“Sometimes people make decisions they eventually regret. Fortunately, there’s always time to correct a mistake.”

She looked directly at me.

Several guests turned.

I put down my fork.

“Mom. This is Tessa’s rehearsal dinner.”

“I’m simply making a toast.”

“Then toast the bride.”

Tessa’s fiancé coughed into his napkin.

Grandma Evelyn, seated across from us, muttered, “About damn time.”

Graham almost choked on his water.

But Julian wasn’t finished.

He stood and held up his glass.

“I actually have some wonderful news about Mara.”

My stomach dropped.

“Julian, sit down.”

“She’ll soon be joining Blackstone Pediatric Rehabilitation as a director.”

A few people applauded.

My mother beamed.

I stood.

“No, I won’t.”

Julian tilted his head.

“Mara, we have a signed agreement.”

“You have a forged signature.”

The room went quiet.

He laughed.

“Let’s not make accusations over dinner.”

“Then stop announcing my career decisions.”

His smile disappeared.

For one second, everyone saw the man I’d lived with.

Cold eyes.

Tight jaw.

A person furious that I had contradicted him publicly.

Then Graham touched my elbow.

“Do you want to stay?”

I looked at Tessa.

She was pale, staring at her wedding program.

“Yes,” I said. “This night belongs to my sister.”

Graham sat beside me.

He didn’t make a speech.

Didn’t threaten Julian.

Didn’t tell me what to do.

And somehow, that made Julian look even smaller.

Later, Grandma Evelyn caught me near the dessert table.

She examined the sapphire ring.

“You know, sweetheart, I gave you that ring because you were the first person in this family who ever asked whether I still wanted to wear it.”

I smiled.

“Grandma—”

“I don’t care whether that engagement is real.”

My mouth fell open.

She patted my cheek.

“But I care very much whether that boy respects you.”

Then she wandered away for cheesecake.

I was still processing that conversation when Julian intercepted me near the hallway.

“You’re making a mistake,” he whispered.

“Funny. You said that when I left you.”

“You have no idea how many people are depending on your appointment.”

“Then they should’ve asked me.”

He stepped closer.

“Be careful. Professional reputations are fragile.”

I pulled out my phone.

“Say that again.”

He looked at the screen.

Then walked away.

I watched him disappear around the corner.

For the first time, I wasn’t afraid of his threats.

I was interested in documenting them.

And before I could rejoin Graham, Tessa grabbed my wrist.

“Mara, there’s something you need to see.”

She turned her phone around.

On the screen was a message our mother had accidentally copied her on.

It was from Julian.

Once Mara completes onboarding, my $38,000 placement fee gets approved. Just make sure she shows up.

Below it was Mom’s reply.

I’ll handle my daughter. You handle the paperwork.

I read it twice.

Then a third time.

My mother hadn’t simply invited my ex to the wedding.

She was helping him make money off a job I’d never agreed to take.

And I finally understood why he’d refused to let me walk away.

PART 3 — One Deleted Email Reveals Why My Mother Wanted Him Back

“Thirty-eight thousand dollars?” I whispered.

Tessa nodded.

“I thought Mom was just being pushy. I didn’t know about the money.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I only saw the message this afternoon. She forwarded the whole conversation by accident.”

I stared through the ballroom doors.

Mom was laughing beside Julian.

My mother had spent years telling people that family came before everything.

Apparently, everything included my consent.

I forwarded the screenshot to myself.

Then I called the compliance officer at Blackstone.

I’d contacted their human resources department that morning, immediately after discovering the agreement.

Now I had more to report.

I explained the unauthorized signature and Julian’s financial interest.

The officer asked me to preserve every message.

She confirmed that my supposed employment acceptance had been flagged for investigation and any onboarding activity was suspended.

At 11:37 that night, an audit report arrived.

The electronic agreement had been completed through my old email account.

An account I hadn’t used since leaving Connecticut.

Its recovery address still belonged to my mother.

And the signature was typed, not handwritten.

I remembered the old laptop I’d left in my parents’ guest room.

The saved passwords.

The documents Julian used to call our shared paperwork.

Pieces I’d been too exhausted to think about when I moved.

I changed the passwords, saved copies of the audit report, and forwarded everything to a Providence attorney.

I wasn’t going to confront either of them without a paper trail.

Saturday morning, Mom texted.

Family brunch. Eleven. Julian will be there. Don’t start anything.

I showed Graham.

He was standing in my kitchen, buttering toast like our lives weren’t turning into a particularly bad television series.

“Are you going?” he asked.

“Only long enough to tell her I’m leaving.”

“I’ll come if you’d like.”

I looked at him.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

That was becoming my favorite thing about him.

He understood the difference between obligation and choice.

At brunch, Mom had arranged the seating so Julian sat beside my empty chair.

I stayed standing.

“Mom, I’m not discussing my relationship with Julian.”

Her smile hardened.

“Sit down, Mara.”

“No.”

“Don’t humiliate this family.”

“You’ve been doing a pretty good job without me.”

A waiter stopped beside our table.

Julian reached for my arm.

Graham didn’t move.

He looked at me.

“Ready?”

I nodded.

We walked out while Mom demanded that I come back.

Half a block away, I stopped outside a diner.

Graham turned toward me.

“You okay?”

“No. But I’m getting there.”

“Good.”

I studied his face.

“You know what’s weird?”

“Several things about this weekend.”

“You haven’t once told me what I should do.”

He shrugged.

“You seem capable of deciding.”

That did it.

I stepped closer.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Is this part of the engagement?”

“No.”

“Good.”

I kissed him.

Not because my mother was watching.

Not because Julian needed convincing.

Because I’d been thinking about it since the night Graham opened his door.

He kissed me back slowly, one hand resting against my cheek.

When we separated, he looked stunned.

“Okay,” he said.

“That’s all you’ve got?”

“I had a much better sentence prepared.”

I laughed and kissed him again.

For the rest of the afternoon, we helped Tessa finish wedding preparations.

Graham carried decorations.

I fixed crooked place cards.

He brought me water without making a production of it.

I realized I was starting to look for him whenever he left the room.

That scared me more than Julian’s threats.

Because Graham was beginning to matter.

That evening, on the hotel’s rooftop terrace, he told me about his father’s stroke.

How he’d spent years handling appointments, insurance claims, and emergencies.

How his last relationship had ended because he’d confused being useful with being loved.

“I don’t want to rescue you, Mara,” he said.

“Good. I don’t need rescuing.”

“I know.”

He brushed a strand of hair away from my face.

“I just want to be here.”

I almost told him I wanted the same thing.

Then my phone buzzed.

A text from Julian.

I know Graham moved in eleven days ago. How do you explain an engagement that supposedly started months earlier?

A second message followed.

Tell your mother the truth by tomorrow, or I’ll tell everyone myself.

I stared at the screen.

My ex knew exactly how long I’d known Graham.

Which meant he wasn’t just manipulating my family anymore.

He’d been digging into my new life.

PART 4 — At My Sister’s Wedding, Pretending Becomes More Dangerous Than Truth

“Your ex knows about us,” I told Graham.

We were standing beneath the rooftop lights.

I showed him the messages.

He read them without speaking.

Then he handed back my phone.

“Are you going to tell your family?”

“Yes. Tomorrow morning. After Tessa’s wedding.”

He nodded.

“And us?”

My throat tightened.

“The fake engagement ends tomorrow.”

Something changed in his expression.

“Right.”

“Graham—”

“We agreed.”

He stepped back.

Not angrily.

Carefully.

Like someone protecting himself from a mistake he’d made before.

I wanted to reach for him.

Instead, I let him go.

Saturday afternoon, my sister married Ben beneath an arch of white roses.

She looked beautiful.

He cried before she finished walking down the aisle.

I cried a little, too.

Not because of Julian.

Not because of Mom.

Because Tessa was getting the day she deserved.

At the reception, Graham and I danced.

For three minutes, I forgot everything.

His hand rested at my waist.

Mine curled around his shoulder.

“You’re a surprisingly good dancer,” I whispered.

“My mother insisted on lessons.”

“I think I’d like your mother.”

“She’d like you.”

Then he looked down.

“And that wasn’t part of the act.”

My chest tightened.

Before I could answer, Julian appeared beside us.

“Can I borrow Mara?”

“No,” I said.

He ignored me.

“Just for a minute.”

“I said no.”

His smile disappeared.

“You’re going to regret humiliating me.”

Graham stepped closer.

But I was already reaching for my phone.

“That’s the second threat you’ve made this weekend.”

Julian grabbed my wrist.

“Put that away.”

“Take your hand off me.”

People turned.

A hotel security officer approached.

Julian released me immediately.

I asked the officer to document what happened and preserve any available hallway security footage.

Julian straightened his jacket.

“She’s being dramatic.”

The officer looked at me.

“Ma’am, are you safe?”

“Yes. And I’d like him to stay away from me.”

That was the end of Julian’s access to me that evening.

But Mom had witnessed everything.

And she was furious.

Not with him.

With me.

“You’ve made a spectacle of yourself,” she hissed near the coatroom.

“He grabbed me.”

“You provoked him.”

I stared at her.

For twenty-nine years, I’d worked hard to earn this woman’s approval.

One sentence ended the effort.

“I’m done,” I said.

Mom folded her arms.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No. I’m done letting you decide what I should tolerate.”

She opened her mouth.

I walked away.

Near the ballroom entrance, Graham stood talking to Tessa.

I heard my sister say, “So the engagement isn’t real?”

“No,” I answered before he could speak.

Graham turned.

I faced Tessa.

“We’re not engaged. We never were.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“I figured.”

“But I wasn’t lying about everything.”

I looked at Graham.

He looked away.

Later, in the quiet corridor outside the reception, I found him alone.

“You heard what I said.”

“Yes.”

“Graham, I wasn’t saying my feelings were fake.”

He rubbed his forehead.

“I know we kissed. I know something happened. But I don’t know whether you want me or whether I’m just the person who helped you through this.”

The question hurt.

Mostly because it was fair.

“I want you,” I said.

He swallowed.

“I want to believe that.”

I slowly removed Grandma’s ring.

“Then we stop pretending. Completely.”

His face fell.

I placed the ring in my clutch.

“I don’t want our first real relationship to begin with another lie.”

He nodded.

Neither of us kissed goodnight.

At 7:12 Sunday morning, my attorney called.

She’d reviewed the documents I’d sent.

There was enough evidence to formally dispute the signature and request preservation of the related communications.

Blackstone was already investigating.

Then she mentioned something that made me sit upright.

The placement fee invoice had been submitted.

Julian had tried to collect his money before I ever set foot in the job.

And the hospital’s compliance department was asking questions about the person who had arranged the acceptance.

This time, he couldn’t simply smile his way out.

PART 5 — I Expose Their Lies And Choose A Love Without Conditions

“Before anyone leaves, Mara has something to explain.”

Mom said it Sunday morning in Tessa and Ben’s hotel suite.

Coffee cups covered the counter.

Suitcases stood beside the door.

Grandma Evelyn sat in an armchair.

Julian was there, naturally.

He looked confident.

He shouldn’t have.

I stood beside the window.

“Yes,” I said. “The engagement was fake.”

Mom closed her eyes.

Julian smiled.

Tessa squeezed Ben’s hand.

“I lied because Mom refused to respect my breakup. Graham agreed to help me. That was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Mom immediately stood.

“I knew something wasn’t right.”

“But that’s not why we’re here.”

I placed a folder on the coffee table.

Inside were the employment agreement, audit report, screenshots, and correspondence from Blackstone.

“Julian submitted an employment acceptance in my name. Without permission.”

His smile vanished.

“That’s a serious accusation.”

“Correct.”

I opened the folder.

“And here are the documents supporting it.”

I showed the electronic signature report.

The message about his $38,000 fee.

And Mom’s reply promising to handle me.

My mother turned pale.

“Julian said the position was already yours.”

“Because you helped him make it look that way.”

“I was trying to help you.”

“You gave him access to my old account.”

She looked away.

That was answer enough.

Julian stood.

“I’m not sitting here while you destroy my reputation.”

“Then leave,” Tessa said.

Everyone stared.

My little sister had barely raised her voice all weekend.

Now she looked straight at him.

“You threatened her at my wedding. You put your hands on her. And you used our family to corner her.”

Julian looked toward Mom.

For once, she didn’t defend him.

He left without saying goodbye.

I closed the folder.

“Blackstone is investigating. My lawyer is handling the rest. I’m not discussing it with either of you again.”

Mom sat down heavily.

“What happens to our family now?”

I looked at her.

“You’ll have to get used to asking instead of ordering.”

Nobody spoke.

Then Graham stepped beside me.

“There’s something I’d like to say.”

My stomach tightened.

He looked at everyone.

“The engagement was fake. My feelings aren’t.”

Grandma Evelyn smiled.

Graham turned toward me.

“I was afraid you only wanted me because I was useful. But you told the truth even when it meant losing the comfortable version of us.”

I couldn’t speak.

He continued.

“I don’t want to pretend we’re getting married. I want to take you on an actual date.”

Tessa covered her mouth.

Graham smiled nervously.

“Dinner. Friday. No relatives. No fake history. No emergency engagement.”

I finally laughed.

“Can we get dessert first?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes.”

Grandma Evelyn started clapping.

Ben joined her.

Even Tessa laughed.

My mother stayed silent.

For once, nobody asked her permission.

The following weeks were unpleasant for Julian.

Blackstone canceled the unauthorized agreement and the placement-fee invoice after its investigation.

His consulting firm suspended him, then terminated his employment following its own review.

My attorney helped me submit a formal identity-fraud report and protect my accounts.

I never recovered every detail of how Julian had obtained access.

But the evidence was enough to end his attempt to profit from my identity.

My mother lost something she valued more than winning an argument.

Access.

Tessa stopped allowing her to dictate holiday plans.

Grandma Evelyn refused to participate in another staged family reconciliation.

And I told Mom that any future relationship would require her to respect my decisions.

She didn’t like it.

She didn’t have to.

As for Graham, our first real date happened at a small Italian restaurant with mismatched chairs and excellent tiramisu.

He admitted he’d liked me since the afternoon we carried my bookcase upstairs.

I admitted I’d invented reasons to borrow his tools.

We laughed until the waitress brought the check.

We had arguments afterward, too.

Real ones.

He sometimes went quiet when he was worried.

I sometimes assumed silence meant disappointment.

We learned to ask instead of guessing.

Eight months after that ridiculous midnight knock, Graham invited me onto the rooftop of our townhouse building.

The evening air smelled like rain.

He was wearing the same gray shirt he’d worn when I first knocked on his door.

“You look nervous,” I said.

“I have a reason.”

He took a small box from his pocket.

My heart stopped.

“Mara Bellamy,” he said, “the first time you asked me to be your fiancé, I didn’t get a choice in the planning.”

I laughed.

He opened the box.

Inside was a simple gold ring with a beautiful emerald-cut stone.

“This time,” he said, “I want to ask properly.”

He lowered himself onto one knee.

“Will you marry me?”

For once, I didn’t need to invent an answer.

“Yes.”

He stood and kissed me.

Then I reached into my pocket.

Grandma Evelyn’s sapphire ring.

I’d brought it with me.

I slipped it onto my right hand.

Graham smiled.

“Two rings?”

“One for where I came from.”

I held up my left hand.

“And one for what I chose.”

He wrapped his arms around me.

Downstairs, somebody slammed a car door.

A dog barked.

Rain tapped against the rooftop railing.

Nothing about the moment was staged.

Nobody was waiting for a performance.

There was no furious mother, no manipulative ex, no contract to sign.

Just a man who had opened his door at 12:14 in the morning and somehow become the person I wanted beside me when the next morning came.

And this time, when he called me his fiancée, neither of us was pretending.

THE END