Y/N's POV:
The aroma of my mother's infamous lasagna filled the air, a warm caress on my nose, a harbinger of the impending family dinner.
But the scent couldn't mask the knot of anxiety churning in my stomach. Tonight, I had to unveil my plan, my desperate attempt to appease my parents and their incessant inquiries about my love life.
"You're turning twenty-five," my mother had declared, her voice laced with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "It's time you settle down. You can't be the last one in the family to be single."
My father, a man of few words, had simply nodded in agreement, his eyes holding a knowing look that made me feel like a delinquent escaping parental supervision.
So, here I was, facing the inevitable. I, Y/N, the most eligible bachelor in the family, had reached the dreaded age of twenty-five, the age where every aunt and uncle would interrogate you about your 'significant other.'
The only problem? I didn't have one.
Enter Danielle, my childhood friend, a girl I'd known since we were knee-high to grasshoppers.
We had always been close, but nothing more than friends. Her kindness, her fierce independence, and her infectious laughter had always made her a comforting presence in my chaotic life.
"Danielle," I had whispered to her over the phone, explaining my predicament, "I need your help. I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for a few weeks. Just to placate my parents."
I had braced myself for her refusal, but Danielle, ever the pragmatist, had merely replied, "Okay, I'll help. But only if you promise to be honest with me about your feelings."
The 'fake' relationship was supposed to be a temporary solution, a Band-Aid for a gaping wound of parental expectations.
Little did I know, it would become a journey into the labyrinth of my own heart.
Danielle's POV:
I watched Y/N standing awkwardly by the dinner table, his hands fidgeting, his eyes darting around the room as if he were in a lion's den.
The family was a curious mix of boisterous aunts, uncles with hearty laughs, and a grandmother whose smile could melt glaciers.
'So, Y/N," his mother, a woman with a heart of gold and a tongue like a whip, began, "I'm so glad you brought Danielle along. Finally, a girlfriend!"
My stomach twisted into a knot. I was used to being alone, but standing here, pretending to be someone I wasn't, felt like playing a role in a movie I hadn't signed up for.
"Yeah, Danielle's great," Y/N muttered, his face flushing red. "She's, uh, she's really... nice."
I stifled a laugh. Nice? I was anything but. I was a whirlwind of contradictions, a hurricane of opinions, a kaleidoscope of emotions. Nice was the last word anyone would use to describe me.
But I knew Y/N was nervous, and I wanted to make this ordeal as painless as possible for him.
So, I played the part of the 'nice girlfriend,' smiling brightly, offering compliments, and engaging in polite conversation.
As the evening progressed, the initial awkwardness gave way to a comfortable familiarity.
I found myself genuinely enjoying their company, their heartwarming stories, their warmth, their genuine love for Y/N.
They were, in their own way, a delightful chaos, a reflection of Y/N himself.
Y/N's POV:
The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of fabricated dates, orchestrated phone calls, and carefully crafted stories.
