Page 42 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector

There it is. I stop breathing for a second.

It’s one of the engagement photos we took at the lake last September. I remember that day. He brought the wrong shoes, complained about the weather, and barely looked up from his phone unless the photographer prompted him.

But you wouldn’t know that from this picture.

We’re smiling. I’m leaning into him. His arm is around my waist like it belonged there.

The caption reads:Some things are worth fighting for. Can’t wait for what’s next.

That’s it.

No context. No tags. No explanation.

Just a lie dressed up like a love story.

My skin prickles. The photo already has hundreds of likes.

Comments are turned off, but it doesn’t matter. The post is out there. Public. Carefully curated to look like a reunion. Like I went back to him.

My throat tightens. My heart beats hard against my ribs.

I didn’t just walk away from Brad. I left the life he expected to control. The image. The narrative. I took that from him, and now he’s attempting to snatch it back in the most public way he can.

I swipe out of the app and toss my phone onto the counter. It skids across the surface and stops near the sink.

I brace my hands on the edge, head bowed, trying to slow my breathing.

There’s a notification blinking on the screen, but I don’t check it.

I don’t need to. The photo’s already making its rounds.

My stomach twists with dread.

My phone buzzes again.

This time it’s a text from Jenna with a screenshot of the post.

What the hell is this?

I immediately call her.

“Please tell me that post isn’t what it looks like,” she says, skipping hello.

“It’s not,” I say, my voice flat. “He’s making it up.”

Jenna blows out a breath. “I knew it was crap, but you know how it is. People see an engagement photo and a hopeful caption and assume you’re registering for dishware again.”

I rub at my temple. “Times like this, I’m glad my parents don’t use social media.”

I pause. Then, quieter: “I saw him yesterday. When I went to get my stuff.”

“And?” she asks, too sharply not to know there’s more.

I close my eyes. “Jackson came with me. And… I kind of told Brad we were together.”

There’s a pause on the line.

“Well, that explains the post. He’s in a full-blown jealous egotistical spiral.”