𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝑳𝒊𝒆

I was acting.
When I laughed...
When I said I loved him...
When I held his hand in front of everyone,
When I laid my head on his chest and closed my eyes as if I were safe.

He was acting too.
When he whispered my name...
When he held my waist in front of others...
When he smiled at me like he was seeing something no one else could see.

We both knew this was a fake relationship.
An agreement, a deal, a shared play.

But the problem is...
Now,
I don't know if I'm still acting or not.

I don't know if I'm lying.
I don't know if I'm fooling them...
Or just fooling myself.

So now I wonder:
Am I doing this because it's my role...
Or because I've started to want it for real?

Are these my looks...
Or the gaze of the character I'm playing?

Did I fall for him...
Or did I just grow tired of pretending?

I feel at ease when he's near.
Sometimes, I wish the play would never end.
But does he feel the same way I do...
Or is he simply better at pretending?

When he placed his coat over my shoulders...
When he stared at me under the pretense of thinking...
When he held me when no one was watching...
And whispered,
"We're not alone."

Did he mean what he said?

Is he acting?
Or is he just... too afraid to admit it?
Too afraid to admit that he's started to feel something...
That we've gone off-script
And we are now writing scenes
That never existed in the script.

Maybe we don't really fall in love...
Maybe we just slowly stop lying.

So what happens at the end...
When we can no longer tell
When the lies began-
And when they stopped?