Fake Date, Real Fate

Cam’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the engine.

"Adrien, Aria has called."

I blinked once. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

The image of Clara’s bloody palms smearing against soundproof glass dissolved from my mind, replaced by the soft leather interior of my May Bach. The shift was abrupt, almost jarring — from calculated hell to the serene hush of wealth.

I leaned back into the seat. Beside me, Cameron adjusted his jacket like he hadn’t just watched me oversee a torture system designed to break gods.

"Put her through," I said.

He hit the answer button and held the phone slightly away from his ear — because he knew exactly what was coming.

"Finally," Aria snapped. "Took you long enough to pick up. What were you two doing? Plotting world domination? Or is Adrien still being dramatic and brooding?"

Cameron grimaced. "Hey, goblin princess—"

"Shut up," Aria’s voice snapped. "Put Adrien on. Your voice is giving me a migraine."

Cameron blinked. "A mi—? I literally said one word—"

I cleared my throat.

Cameron froze. Aria didn’t.

"Oh good, he’s there. Great. You both sound like divorced parents who forgot their kid at a mall."

Cameron blinked again. "Why am I getting insulted—"

"Because your voice is loud and unnecessary."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. A headache bloomed instantly.

I cleared my throat. Again.

Cameron shut up immediately. "Right. Right. Adrien’s here."

"Good," Aria said. I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Tell him Isabella agreed."

Everything in my body went still.

Agreed.

To the park.

To leaving the bakery.

To stepping into some place new, where I could be near her without ripping open the fragile healing her brain was clinging to.

"Agreed to what?" Cameron asked, shifting into his ’I know exactly what she’s talking about but I enjoy annoying her’ tone.

"To the amusement park tomorrow, genius."

He squinted at the phone like he could glare at her through it.

"So," Aria said loudly, "operation Bring Isabella Memory Back is officially a go."

A quiet exhale slipped from me. Not relief—not exactly. More like... readiness. Purpose settling into bone.

"Hm," I said. "Time?"

"Late noon," she answered. "Kids are less chaotic then. And by kids, I mean Cameron."

Cameron gasped dramatically. "I am a delight."

"No," she said. "You’re a walking migraine."

My headache pulsed again. I rubbed at my temple.

Cameron coughed. "Adrien, are you— jealous?"

I leveled a look at him that promised several medical complications.

"Okay!" He straightened. "Shutting up. My apologies."

"Anyway," Aria continued, "don’t act like you saw a dead person when you see her. You want her memory to come back, not her trauma."

I didn’t dignify that with a response.

"Good," Aria continued. "Now— Cameron, you—"

"Oh, thank you," he muttered. "Acknowledgment at last."

"—need to stop breathing so loudly. It’s irritating."

Cam’s mouth fell open. "I— STOP BREATHING? Aria, do you know how—"

But the line went dead.

He stared at the screen.

Then looked at me.

Then back at the screen.

"She hung up on me."

He blinked at me. "She hung up on me while I was talking. Talking. To her."

I said nothing.

"Adrien."

"...Yes."

"She hung up on me."

"I heard."

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "She’s the rudest person alive. The way she just—she has zero class. Zero manners. She treats me like I’m some—some annoying little—"

"Mhm."

"And she— she just ended it. No warning. No goodbye. No— nothing."

"Mm."

He narrowed his eyes. "You’re not listening to me."

"You like her?" I asked flatly.

Cameron sputtered so hard I wondered if he inhaled his tongue. "Me? Like her? Her? Absolutely no. No. I would never—she is not my type. Not even close. She insults me for sport—she breathes chaos—she argues like it’s her hobby—why would anyone—."

"Okay." I said.

He kept going anyway. "Not that I have a type. But if I did? Definitely not... whatever she is. I mean, she’s pretty, sure, but that’s— irrelevant. Irrelevant. Ir—"

"Okay."

"I don’t like her," he repeated, louder. "Why are you looking at me like that? I don’t."

I tuned him out.

My mind was already moving. Already recalibrating. Tomorrow. A controlled environment. Public, but not too crowded. Enough stimuli to provoke neural connections. Enough unpredictability for instinctive reactions, emotional triggers.

Enough proximity... for her to feel me again.

My jaw tightened.

Would it hurt her?

Would seeing me without knowing why her chest tightened... trigger another collapse?

Another panic? Another migraine that forced her brain to protective shutdown?

Kassel’s voice threaded through my mind:

Her mind will reach for what feels familiar. Even if she doesn’t understand why. Especially if she doesn’t understand why.

I exhaled slowly, letting the thought settle.

Tomorrow, I would see her.

Not the version who knew me.

Not as her husband.

Not the woman who once looked at me like I was gravity.

Not as the man whose name her mind erased out of mercy.

But as a stranger she doesn’t know she once loved.

I have to be a shadow first.

Then a presence.

Then... whatever her mind allows.

And that... was enough to start.

"—and she doesn’t even like me!" Cameron was saying, still talking about aria. "She calls me a walking migraine, Adrien. Who says that? I’m a joy. A delight—"

"Hm."

"You’re not even listening."

"No."

He threw up his hands. "Fine. Whatever. Let’s focus on the actual important thing here—you’re jealous."

I barely glanced at him. "No."

"Liar." He pointed at me, grinning. "You were practically glowering when she mentioned Isabella. Admit it."

"Glowering."

"Yes. Glowering. Like a possessive, emotionally constipated—"

"Careful."

"—CEO with the emotional range of a teaspoon," he finished, grinning like he hadn’t just signed his own death warrant. "You can’t fool me, Adri. I’ve seen you glare at men for looking at her bakery display too long whenever we go check up on her."

I flexed my fingers once. A warning. "You’re imagining things."

"Uh-huh. Just like I imagined you buying the entire block around her bakery so no one could ’disturb the peace’?"

I leveled another look at him. He held up his hands in mock surrender but didn’t stop smirking.

Irritating.

But not wrong.

Jealousy was an ugly, useless emotion—one I had no patience for. And yet, the thought of Isabella in that damn bakery, surrounded by strangers who didn’t know her, who didn’t understand her, who hadn’t memorized the way she laughed when she was tired—

I flexed my fingers.

No. Not jealous.

Impatient.

"You are shutting me out again."

"no."

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the seat. "Do you even love me?"

I paused.

Looked at him.

His eyes widened. "Why are you pausing?! Why is there a pause?! JUST SAY YES!"

I looked out the window.

The city blurred by in streaks of gold and violet.

"I tolerate you," I said.

He gasped like he’d been stabbed. "Oh my god. I’m leaving this family."

"Okay." I said. "We leave at noon for tomorrow."

Cameron blinked. "Not late noon?"

"No."

"Aria said—"

"I don’t care."

He grinned. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

I ignored him.

Tomorrow.

My wife.

And this time, I wouldn’t let her forget.