Faking it Till They Make It

The aroma of aged books and freshly brewed coffee hung heavily in the otherwise bare apartment, which belonged to Ethan. Ava was perched on the edge of a fraying leather armchair, nervously tapping a manicured fingernail against its armrest. Night meetings felt well-deserved confabs, like clandestine meetings between two conspirators engaging in grand treachery. 

The severity of the dark circles under their eyes spurred them on. "Okay," Ethan began in a soft voice against the backdrop of the city in some distance. Russell the spoon inside his coffee cup, that clink against the ceramic was music in the quiet room. "We are going forward with Operation: Happy Couple. But we need a detailed game plan, and more importantly, if this is going to work, it needs to be airtight." Ava nodded, tiredness forgotten under the resolution etched on her face. "That's absolute. We should take care of everything. Family dinners, social media presence, all that. You know Aunt Mildred? Well, she snoops at everyone. She will find it out before one can say, duck!" Ethan chuckled dryly at himself. "My mom isn't any better. She's already encouraging me to start dating her bridge partner's daughter, a woman who, uh, collects porcelain dolls and speaks exclusively in rhyming couplets. I'd rather face a firing squad." They outlined the longer plan, and as their initial caution melted away, the pure sense of nervous excitement began to dawn on their each mind.

Modestly planning their public appearances, David marked out dates for future events and nigh-majestic scenarios that would suggest a rich life of romance.

While sweet romance happened to be a party on its own, Ava, adept as she was at strategizing and plotting games in court, was on an equally high level as a masterminded schemer for the campaign of fantasies. "We need a backstory," declared Ava, her eyes a glimmering frenzy to her partner. "Something credible, to explain how we met, how we started dating... the whole works." Ethan leaned back in his chair to think. "Perhaps we met at that charity gala? I will say I was struck with your fabulous smile and impassioned speech on tax reform benefits. You would say you're impressed at my level of commitment to social justice, despite my choice of the hideous bow tie." Ava smiled. "Great. Let's say we've been dating for six months, just enough to seem believable and not too long to raise eyebrows about why we haven't made a formal announcement. Plus, we're going to have to coordinate our social media profiles. We want carefully curated images, romantic captions... possibly a few tacky hashtags." From practicalities to intricate detail, the discussion flowed seamlessly.

They discussed cavalier gestures of romance, how frequently they should post on social media, and even other nuances that would suggest public displays of affection in appropriate ways. They planned romantic dinners at swanky restaurants, meticulously selecting ones that would give the most impressive look of rich sophistication, making sure their reserved times wouldn't clash with their busy schedules. Even "couple things" were discussed, like weekend trips to cute vineyards together or opening nights at galleries.

The evening unfolded with a heady mixture of strong coffee and the most unlikely camaraderie. They weren't simply plotting to deceive but were building a joint story: a story with painstakingly woven lines of lies meant to shield them from ongoing pressures of expectation from society. Yet, under the thick veneer of their vain-planned charade, an odd dynamic was beginning to emerge. Their late-night conversations skirted the outside definitions of their then-fake relationship, drifting into shared worries, unexpressed dreams, and rather personal confessions.

Ethan vented about his tough life in finance and the constant pressure to surpass his competition and an immediate sense of lonely ambition. Ava admitted to him the rigorous life of a lawyer, constant pressure to prove herself, and a fear of failure. The readiness to be vulnerable knitted them together somehow: an attachment that transcended even the consciously made barriers of their pretense.

They found themselves laughing at each other's fears, deciding the other's plight, and giving each other the most unexpected comfort and encouragement. At last, with the sky gradually being painted by the first rays of dawn with hues of red and yellow, their plan was complete. Their script for the fake relationship had been drawn, a detailed guide of sorts with romantic getaways, carefully chosen gifts, and perfectly staged Instagram-worthy moments.

They had turned every single stone to arrive at the most believable facade of a happy, thriving couple. But as Ava was about to depart, a hesitant silence lingered between them. The excitement and shared exhaustion after the previous night engaged gutted talks and the audacity of their plan formed a rather odd emotional connection. The carefully.

The line separating a professional relationship from genuine intimacy grew increasingly blurred. "This is... intense," Ava whispered very softly. Ethan nodded, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips." Yeah? Well, we're in this together now. Sink or swim." Their last words were hanging thick in the air, heavier than their now-cold coffee. They were explorers of a gigantic deception, an illusion acted for fun; and in the making of that illusion, they were actively engaged in creating something more unpredictable, more real, and perhaps even far more dangerous than they ever anticipated.

It was less of a polished pretense and more of an adventure with unpredictable consequences for their audacious pact. The next few weeks were a whirlwind of orchestrated meetings, family gatherings, perfect performances, synchronized smiles, and skillfully rehearsed interactions that validated every particle of the personas they had created. Ava's Aunt Mildred, in spite of her hawkish gaze and even sharper tongue, was completely convinced. In the surprising turn of events, Ethan's mom took to Ava so instantly that she threw unsolicited advice on everything from the right shade of lipstick to the most proper way to fold a fitted sheet.

Their social media didn't keep back either. Ava posted only the best shots of the two of them in various romantic situations. Friends and relatives showered their enthusiastic applause in the comments section. They mastered the art of the well-timed "couple selfie", skillfully romanticizing captions and being careful not to cross over the fine line in public, casually either testing the waters or courting questions.

actions that might expose their ruse. The mask, which was a product of very careful planning by the participants, started to feel like a second skin, a comfortable yet restrictive costume they wore with utter ease and growing confidence. The meticulous ballets eventually unfolded from something originally exhausting into deeply practiced routines, wherein the execution of each step became something automatic.

They would exchange glances at family functions, their secret language to each other as accomplices in their grand deception. But the truth was that, alongside their seamless act, some very real feelings had undeniably begun to flourish. What had started as the necessity of planning their campaigns of deception later turned into midnight conversations on shared dreams, hopes, and deepest insecurities. They found common interests, shared passions, and a certain comfort with one another. The line separating the fake from the real was being blurred complexly, creating a tension both uncomfortable and intoxicating. The initial awkwardness of their staged intimacy gradually melted away tobecome a true comfort, a silence with all the spaces from their conveniently rehearsed lines eventually filled.

They laughed freely, enjoyed each other's antics, and once carefully monitored exchanges seemed springing into life. Their partnership was turning from the submenu and disappearing mainstream into something real. However, one day, the carefully concocted world started showing cracks. Ava's ex-boyfriend Mark, with an air of mellowness about him and philosophically inclined, noticed their small inconsistencies.

Social media activity; jealousy was his ugly side. Ethan's ambitious rival in business, Daniel, was no fool and sensed that something was wrong, his suspicion having been triggered by Ethan's amazing, literally overnight productivity leap and a better overall spirit. The drama began to intensify as Mark followed Ethan and Ava discreetly, trying to gather evidence against their secret. Daniel, on the other hand, made use of a bigger network of connections to investigate Ava's background discreetly.

The very ground upon which their elaborate facade had once stood solid was dénouement before an Midsummer's Night Dream-esquedent forces outside and in the form of their own intensifying feelings. The great deception, once a seamless performance, now teetered on the brink of collapse, thus threatening to expose their carefully-woven lies and put their bond into jeopardy. The game had begun to play itself, with stakes taller than either dared to imagine.