~LAYLA~
"It's not a line. It's the truth."
"The truth," I said with a bitter laugh. "The truth is we don't even know what's real anymore. We've been playing pretend for so long that I don't know where the act ends and reality begins."
"Then let me make it clear." He gestured between us. "This is real. What I feel for you, that's real. And I'm sorry I made you doubt that."
His words hung heavy between us, like the flickering candlelight. The lakeside pavilion was too perfect, the wine too smooth, his presence too overwhelming.
I stared at the lake, watching the sunset reflect on the water, trying to ignore the part of me that desperately wanted to believe him.
He'd said I was the entire point. But how could I trust that? After the contract, after all the lies, after that night he'd pushed me away when I'd been so vulnerable?
My palm still tingled from the slap I'd landed in the cabin, that burst of anger I hadn't meant to unleash but couldn't contain.
