Maskfall

The glass slipped from someone's hand and shattered on the floor. The people across from me stood up, and the first thing they saw was my disheveled clothes.

Someone let out a low whistle.

I clutched my shirt tightly, my eyes red. "Josh, where are you?"

Josh had just taken a step forward when a waiter walked up and blocked him. "Miss, this is a high-end private club. It's not a place for someone like you."

I was dressed head to toe in cheap online knockoffs, my messy bun tilting to one side. I looked completely out of place.

"You've got the wrong idea. My boyfriend works here. I have a vision problem and got separated from him. I'll leave as soon as I find him."

No one around me believed a word.

Whitney let out an icy laugh. "Who knows if she didn't sneak in while her boyfriend's working just to hook a rich guy?"

That was all it took. The looks around me turned sharp and mocking.

Gold digger. Cheap. Desperate.

In an instant, I became the center of everyone's ridicule.

Josh pulled his foot back and sat down again. The waiter reached out impatiently and grabbed my arm. "Move along. I've seen plenty like you."

I shook my head, blinking back tears as I pulled out my phone. The lock screen was a photo of Josh. I pointed at it, my voice shaking with anger. "My boyfriend is here. He can prove it."

The waiter froze and looked up at Josh.

Josh met his gaze with a blank, distant expression. He clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

"What nonsense are you talking about? How could this gentleman possibly be your boyfriend? He's clearly—"

I unlocked my phone and cut him off, "If you don't believe me, I have proof."

On the trending searches was a video of Donald working with me. In the clip, a young girl wore dark sunglasses with a white cane resting by her side. Next to her stood a tall guy with a lazy, careless posture, a few buckets of roses spread out in front of him.

At first, Donald looked reluctant. Then, seeing how pitiful I looked, he gave in.

From that day on, a strange pair appeared on the overpass—a blind girl and a boy with a permanent scowl. Maybe it was because we both looked young and stood out too much. Reporters started showing up to film us.

Donald had tried chasing them off with a dark expression more than once. It never worked. Eventually, he stopped trying.

That day, listening to the numbers in my account balance being read out loud on my phone, I leaned forward and kissed him first.

The boy who was always so careless froze on the bridge, stammering. "Yvette, who said you could kiss me?"

Under the sunset, his face was as striking as the glowing sky behind him.

I smiled and waved my phone at him. "Josh, we're getting closer to 100,000."

The color drained from his face instantly. He remembered. That number was just a lie he made up to trick me. Even if I earned 100,000, Josh would never marry me.

He, just a stand-in in the scheme, had even less right. That night, he pressed me down and bit hard on my lips.

"What did you just call me? Hm?"

"Josh."

He moved like he was trying to burn something out of himself, like he might break me apart. However, the moment I frowned, he slowed down anyway. "Good girl. Call me honey."

Blushing, I softly called his name, my voice almost a whisper.

Back then, he was like a dead tree coming back to life, everything about him suddenly bright.

From that day on, it was like he became a different person. Every morning, he got up early just to stand in line at that coffee shop I once mentioned, just to bring me the first cup of hot coffee.

During the day, he sold flowers under the blazing sun, while making sure I stayed in the shade, never letting me get even a little too warm. He used to say I was a delicate flower, and he would not be the one to ruin me.

On slow days, he would not even eat his own sandwich, saving all of it for me.

At noon, he handed out flyers on the street and settled me into a nearby fast food joint so I could sit in the air conditioning and rest.

At night, he would buy hot street food and quietly slip it into my hands.

I had argued with him before, seriously, telling him I could work too, that we could share the burden.

He just shook his head. He said letting his woman suffer was the only mistake he had ever made.

During that year, we lived in a basement apartment that cost 500 dollars a month. The window was old and broken. When it rained outside, it practically rained inside too.

He would throw his jacket over me and run with me to the nearest subway station.

Two soaked idiots, laughing so hard we could not breathe.

In winter, the basement felt like a freezer. To save money, we refused to turn on the heat.

Donald would just hold me close, acting as my personal heater. Then he would pull out a small bag of roasted nuts from his pocket and peel them one by one for me. Watching me eat with a smile, he would smile too.

Sometimes, he asked me if I regretted it. I would wrap my arms around his neck and answer with a kiss—like I never noticed he was not Josh.

In the hazy quiet of the night, I would sometimes hear him sigh. "Yvette… stop loving him. Love me instead, okay?"

He kissed me again and again, like he wanted the answer but was afraid of it at the same time.

Back in the club, someone recognized the video.

"Hey, isn't that that super famous couple online? Who's out here trash-talking this girl?"

"Her boyfriend adores her. He treats her like she's everything. That lock screen clearly isn't him. The girl has bad eyesight. She probably just mixed it up."

"Just let her wait here for her boyfriend."

I nodded, smiling sweetly. "Yeah. If Josh can't find me, he'll lose his mind."