Emery's phone buzzed in her pocket just as she stepped out of the subway, the city's evening rush humming around her. It was Liam.
Liam: Meeting after work? I found a new coffee place. You in?
She hesitated. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind — fake smiles, real touches, fragile confessions. But the thought of sitting with Liam, in the soft glow of a new café, felt like a lifeline.
Emery: Yeah. See you in 20.
The café was a tucked-away gem, walls lined with plants and shelves of books that smelled like old stories. Liam was already there, waiting with two steaming cups. He stood up when she walked in, pulling her into a hug that felt less like a script and more like home.
They sat in a quiet corner, the noise of the city fading behind the clink of cups and soft jazz.
"So," Liam said, swirling his coffee, "how's the new column idea?"
Emery smiled, biting her lip. "Scary. But freeing, too. Writing about 'fake love' turning real…it's like opening a door I've been too afraid to unlock."
Liam nodded, his gaze steady. "Sounds like you're falling without a net."
She laughed softly. "Exactly. And I'm terrified."
"Me too," he admitted. "But maybe that's where the magic happens."
Emery's fingers found his across the table, the warmth grounding her.
Later that night, back in her apartment, Emery stared at her laptop screen. The cursor blinked on an empty document titled "When Fake Love Becomes Real." The words refused to come.
She thought about Liam — his smile, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that made sense in the chaos.
Her phone lit up.
Liam: Want to talk? I can't sleep.
Emery's heart skipped. She typed back:
Emery: Me neither. Come over?
An hour later, Liam was on her couch, feet kicked up, a nervous energy buzzing between them.
They talked about everything and nothing — childhood fears, ridiculous dreams, scars both visible and hidden.
"I never thought I'd say this," Liam said quietly, "but I'm glad we messed up the rules. Because now, I'm starting to believe in us."
Emery's eyes welled up. "Me too."
They leaned in, the distance shrinking until lips met, soft and tentative, a promise wrapped in uncertainty.
Days passed in a blur of stolen moments and hesitant confessions. But with every step forward, the old fears lurked.
One evening, Emery's phone rang — a number she didn't recognize. She answered, her voice cautious.
"Emery? It's Sasha."
Her heart sank. Sasha rarely called outside work.
"We have a problem," Sasha said. "The editor saw the BuzzBeat profile. The fake story is causing a stir internally. They want a clarification. Now."
Emery's breath caught. The last thing she wanted was their carefully crafted illusion blown apart.
That night, Emery sat with Liam, the weight of the looming storm pressing down.
"We have to fix this," she said, voice shaking. "Before it destroys everything."
Liam reached for her hand. "We'll face it. Together."
The next day, Emery walked into the BuzzBeat office, heart pounding. Jade greeted her with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"We need the truth," Jade said. "Your story deserves that."
Emery nodded. "Then it's time to rewrite it."
Back at her apartment, Emery sat at her desk, fingers flying over the keyboard.
"Love, real and messy, doesn't come with a script. Sometimes, the best stories are the ones we don't plan to tell…"
She paused, looking up at the window where city lights twinkled like a thousand unscripted moments.
And for the first time, Emery felt ready.