![]() ![]() I’m saved from replying when his phone rings, and use the excuse to walk into the bedroom to get some space, and some air. ![]() He’s fine with his family continuing to think I’m someone else? Isn’t he proud of me? Of what we’ve built together? Doesn’t that outweigh the shame in having to admit his lie? ![]() His eyes track me as I move around the sofa. ![]() I’m in this same spot again, playing a secondary role in Calvin’s life story. If he wants to do away with our initial year plan, then isn’t it better for us to tell them the truth now? Obviously it’s a temporary solution, but I guess the problem is that I didn’t think I was temporary anymore. But I imagine spending the rest of the week responding to someone else’s name with a smile. I can almost understand lying to his family for all these years out of a desire to protect them-after all, I haven’t told my parents, either. ?” I try it out in my head and, if possible, the hurt deepens. “ ‘Will make it easier’? You’re asking me to play along. I feel like the trust we’ve built in the past few weeks has been hurled against the wall. It fits into a perfect narrative he created. The silver lining, like it turned out to be convenient that the girl who found him at the subway looked like the girl he had pretended to marry. ![]()
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