ROMAN'S POV
I haven't seen him in three weeks.
Three weeks since I walked out of his penthouse. Three weeks since I got engaged to Randall. Three weeks since I forced Khalid to choose duty over me.
And I don't know if I made the right choice or if I just destroyed everything.
---
The ring feels wrong on my finger.
It's small. Silver. Randall picked it out. Said he wanted something that wouldn't feel like a lie.
But it is a lie. The whole thing is a lie.
I'm wearing another man's ring to force the man I love to marry someone else.
That's not strategy. That's insanity.
But I did it anyway.
---
Khalid called after the article went live.
I'd been waiting for it. Sitting on my couch with my phone in my hand for two hours.
"What the fuck is this?"
His voice was—broken. Actually broken.
And I wanted to say: It's fake. It's strategy. It's me buying you time to do what you need to do.
Instead I said: "What it looks like."
Because he needed to believe it. Needed to think I was moving on so he could do the same.
"You got engaged."
"Yes."
That one word felt like swallowing glass.
---
The conversation is burned into my brain.
"You're engaged to another man to make me marry another woman."
"Yes."
"That's not practical. That's you testing me again."
And he was right. It is a test.
But not the kind he thinks.
The test is: can we survive this? Can we be apart while still being together? Can we do our duty while still being each other's?
I don't know the answer yet.
---
Randall has been perfect.
Too perfect.
He texts me every morning. Takes me to dinner twice a week. Holds my hand in public.
Plays the devoted fiancé flawlessly.
And I feel nothing.
No butterflies. No excitement. No desire.
Just—gratitude. That he's helping me do this. That he's making it believable.
Last night he asked how I was doing.
"Fine."
"Liar."
"I'm fine."
"You're not. You miss him."
I don't answer.
"It's okay to miss him," Randall says. "That's why we're doing this."
---
I saw the announcement about Khalid and Amira.
Formal engagement. Six months from now. Dubai. Traditional ceremony.
I stared at it for an hour.
And I felt—
Relief? Devastation? Both?
Relief that he's doing what he needs to do. That he won't throw away his family for me.
Devastation that he's actually marrying her. That this is real.
Both simultaneously.
---
Avery came over last week.
Took one look at me and said: "You look like shit."
"Thanks."
"You're miserable."
"I'm fine."
"Stop saying you're fine when you're clearly not fine." She sits down. "You got engaged to push him toward an arranged marriage. And it worked. So why do you look like someone died?"
"Because maybe I made the wrong choice."
"Did you?"
"I don't know." I twist the ring on my finger. "I thought I was being selfless. Thought I was protecting him. But what if I'm just—pushing him away before he can leave first?"
"Are you?"
"I don't know anymore."
---
Here's what I'm realizing:
I got engaged to Randall for two reasons.
One: to force Khalid to marry Amira. To show him he could do his duty and I'd survive.
Two: to protect myself. Because if he chose me, if he threw away everything for me, I'd spend the rest of my life waiting for him to resent me for it.
This way—with both of us engaged to other people—neither of us has to resent anyone.
Or we both resent everyone.
I haven't figured out which yet.
---
Randall's condition keeps echoing in my head.
"When it's over—when Khalid is married and stable and you're sure he's okay—you actually give us a chance."
I agreed. Shook his hand. Made a deal.
But I don't know if I can keep it.
Because giving Randall a chance means giving up Khalid.
And I don't know how to give up Khalid.
---
I haven't been to the penthouse since I left.
Khalid hasn't asked me to come back.
We're in this weird limbo where we're both engaged to other people but still technically together.
Except we're not together. Not really.
We're just—existing in separate spaces. Doing our duty. Pretending this is normal.
It's not normal.
It's torture.
---
I caught myself yesterday looking at wedding dresses.
Not for me. For Amira.
Wondering what she'll wear. What she looks like. If she's excited to marry him.
If she knows about me.
Probably not. Probably Khalid's family made sure she doesn't know about the inappropriate actress their son is in love with.
Probably she thinks this is a normal arranged marriage.
Probably she has no idea she's marrying someone who belongs to someone else.
---
Leny called yesterday.
"I saw the engagement announcement."
"Which one?"
"Both of them." Pause. "Are you okay?"
"No."
At least I'm honest with Leny.
"What are you doing, Roman?"
"I'm making sure he doesn't throw away his entire life for me."
"By throwing away yours?"
"I'm not throwing away anything. I'm just—" I stop. "I'm buying time."
"Time for what?"
"I don't know yet."
---
Here's what scares me:
What if this becomes real?
What if Khalid marries Amira and actually falls in love with her?
What if I'm engaged to Randall long enough that I start to feel something for him?
What if we both move on and this sacrifice was for nothing?
What if I forced him to do his duty and lost him in the process?
---
I haven't scratched in six months.
Haven't felt the urge. Haven't needed the relief.
But yesterday—looking at the engagement announcement—my neck itched.
I caught myself reaching for it. Stopped. Put my hand down.
Counted to ten.
The urge passed.
But it was there. Sitting under my skin. Waiting.
---
I texted Khalid last night.
Just: *Are you okay?*
He didn't respond for three hours.
Then: *No. You?*
*No.*
*Good.*
That was the whole conversation.
But it felt like more. Like we were saying: I'm not okay without you. I'm doing this anyway. I'm surviving but barely.
Like we were acknowledging that this is torture for both of us.
---
Randall asked what happens after the wedding.
"After Khalid marries Amira. What happens to us?"
"I don't know."
"Because we have a deal."
"I know."
"Do you plan to keep it?"
I don't answer.
"Roman—"
"I don't know, okay? I don't know if I can give you a real chance. I don't know if I can move on from him. I don't know anything except that right now I'm helping him do what he needs to do."
Randall is quiet. "And what do you need to do?"
"Survive this."
---
I saw Khalid yesterday.
Not on purpose. Just—at a restaurant. Different parties. Different sides of the room.
He saw me. I saw him. We both froze.
For about five seconds we just looked at each other.
And I felt everything. All of it. All at once.
Love. Loss. Longing. Regret. Certainty. Doubt.
Then someone called his name. He turned away.
I left through the back exit.
Sat in my car for twenty minutes trying to remember how to breathe.
---
Here's what I know:
I forced him to marry Amira because I love him. Because I couldn't let him throw away everything for me.
I got engaged to Randall to make it convincing. To show him I'd survive without him.
But I'm not surviving.
I'm drowning.
And I don't know if this sacrifice was worth it or if I just destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me.
---
It's 4 AM.
I'm in my apartment. Alone. Staring at the ring on my finger.
Khalid is getting married in six months.
I'm engaged to someone I don't love.
And we're both pretending this is fine.
It's not fine.
It's catastrophic.
But maybe—
Maybe this is what love looks like when you're trying to protect someone from yourself.
Maybe this is what sacrifice costs.
Maybe six months from now when he's married and stable and I'm sure he's okay—maybe then I can figure out what happens to me.
But right now?
Right now I'm just trying to survive the choice I made.
Trying to believe I did the right thing.
Trying not to regret forcing the man I love to marry someone else.
And failing.
Completely failing.