I didn’t sleep.

Not really.

I lay awake on my narrow bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling while the city continued breathing beyond my apartment window.

Cars passed.

Sirens echoed somewhere in the distance.

A neighbor laughed in the hallway.

The world carried on as if nothing had changed.

But everything inside me had.

Because today…

I was finally going to tell the truth.

There would be no more excuses.

No more pretending.

No more hiding behind someone else’s face.

Whatever happened afterward…

I would accept it.

I reached for my phone on the bedside table.

Ryan’s last message still glowed on the screen.

RyanCarter88: I feel like I’m missing something.

A bitter smile crossed my lips.

You are.

More than you know.

I closed my eyes.

For weeks, I had built something that should never have existed.

A connection born from dishonesty.

Yet somehow…

Every conversation had felt genuine.

Every laugh had been mine.

Every fear.

Every dream.

Every hope.

Only the face had belonged to someone else.

Maybe telling him the truth would destroy everything.

Or maybe…

It was the only chance I had left to save what little remained.

The first person I contacted wasn’t Ryan.

It was Samantha.

Emily: We need to meet. Today.

Her response arrived almost immediately.

Samantha: Busy.

Of course she was.

I stared at the screen before typing again.

Emily: It’s about Ryan.

Nearly a minute passed.

Then another message appeared.

Samantha: Location?

We met in a quiet restaurant tucked away on a side street in Manhattan.

It wasn’t the kind of place tourists found.

Soft jazz floated through hidden speakers.

Only a handful of tables were occupied.

It was peaceful.

Almost too peaceful.

Like the room itself was waiting for something to break.

Samantha was already seated when I arrived.

She looked immaculate.

Her blonde hair rested perfectly on her shoulders.

Her makeup was flawless.

Even the way she crossed her legs looked effortless.

She didn’t resemble someone who had wandered into another woman’s life.

She looked like she had always belonged there.

She looked up as I approached.

“You look exhausted.”

“I didn’t come here for fashion advice.”

A faint smile appeared on her lips.

“Then why did you come?”

I pulled out the chair opposite her.

“Because I’m ending this.”

For the first time, her expression changed.

Not surprise.

Curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m telling Ryan everything.”

Silence settled between us.

She leaned back slowly, studying me.

“No.”

I frowned.

“No?”

“You won’t.”

“I will.”

She folded her arms.

“And then what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“You think he’ll forgive you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You think he’ll understand?”

“I don’t know.”

“You think he’ll choose you?”

My heartbeat stumbled.

“I’ve already lost him.”

Those words came out quieter than I intended.

Because somewhere deep inside…

I believed them.

Samantha rested her fingertips against her glass.

“You’re panicking.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“You’re losing control.”

“I’m tired of lying.”

She sighed softly.

“For what it’s worth…”

She looked directly into my eyes.

“…I think you’re making a mistake.”

I laughed bitterly.

“You don’t get to tell me that.”

“No?”

“You helped create this.”

She didn’t deny it.

Instead, she calmly replied,

“You asked me to.”

The words stung because they were true.

“I asked you to help me.”

“You asked me to become someone else.”

“I never asked you to keep being her.”

Another silence.

Then Samantha spoke again.

“Let’s be honest.”

She leaned forward slightly.

“If you confess now…”

She paused.

“…what do you honestly think Ryan does?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I already knew.

“He walks away.”

The words hung between us.

“From both of us.”

I swallowed.

“You don’t know that.”

“No?”

She smiled sadly.

“I know enough.”

Then she asked the question I wasn’t prepared for.

“Are you doing this because it’s the right thing…”

She paused.

“…or because you’re afraid you’re losing him?”

I looked away.

Because I couldn’t answer.

Maybe it was both.

Finally, I stood.

“I’m going to tell him today.”

Not tomorrow.

Not eventually.

Today.

She watched me for several seconds.

Then nodded once.

“Fine.”

She picked up her handbag.

“But don’t expect me to fix whatever happens next.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Good.”

“Because I won’t.”

Samantha remained seated.

She watched the door for several long seconds.

Then she picked up her glass.

Took a sip.

Set it back down.

She’s bluffing.

She has to be.

Emily had always been the quieter one.

The cautious one.

The one who overthought everything.

No…

She won’t do it.

She can’t.

A waiter approached politely.

“Would you like anything else, ma’am?”

Samantha looked up.

“No.”

The waiter smiled.

“I’ll bring your bill.”

Samantha nodded absentmindedly.

Her eyes drifted back toward the entrance.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

She paid her bill.

Walked outside.

Stopped beside her car.

She pulled out her phone.

No messages.

She considered calling Emily.

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

No.

That would only make her suspicious.

Samantha slipped the phone back into her handbag.

She opened the driver’s door.

Sat inside.

Closed it.

Silence filled the expensive car.

Her fingers rested on the steering wheel.

She closed her eyes.

She’s not going.

She won’t.

…

Will she?

Suddenly…

Emily’s voice echoed inside her mind.

“I’m going to tell him today.”

Not tomorrow.

Not eventually.

Today.

Something tightened inside Samantha’s chest.

A feeling she hadn’t experienced in years.

Fear.

Real fear.

Not fear of Whitmore.

Not fear of exposure.

Fear…

Of losing Ryan.

She opened her eyes immediately.

“No.”

She whispered it to herself.

“No…”

She quickly started the engine.

The powerful vehicle came alive beneath her.

Without giving herself another second to think…

She pulled out of the parking space.