Someone Else's Life

Seven years later...

Tap tap tap. Cling! Cling! 

The rhythmic sound of tapping keyboards and jangling bracelets filled the café's corner, blending into the low humming of coffee machines and soothing classical music in the background. The seating area was mostly deserted, save for an elderly couple by the window and a woman in her twenties some distance away from them.

For the past hour, the woman had been typing away at her laptop, chasing an unseen deadline for reasons even she was unsure of. But then again, the lost didn't need a reason to keep walking—they just did, wandering around aimlessly, until they could no longer move.

Tap!

As the cuckoo clock called out "3 p.m.", Iris hit 'send' and stared at her screen.

Images of picturesque alps, luxurious chalets, vibrant smiles, and drool-worthy local cuisines stared back.

Regrettably, they didn't belong to her—she neither had a part in the journey which led to those pictures, nor the events that caused those beatific smiles.

Her role was much subtler than that, visible only in well-structured words that described her client's latest adventure in enthralling detail. Her text only served to explain and highlight the pictures, just like her job was to write about the exciting shenanigans of a popular world-trotting blogger, but never to experience the smells, tastes, and colours for herself.

Sometimes, even those words she had personally typed didn't feel like her own. The chipper yet fresh tone which permeated each paragraph was packaged and sold as her client's "voice", much to the praise of her blog's oblivious followers. Despite all that, she had no choice but to accept her role as a ghostwriter, because this was the only way she could still have a career in writing.

Sighing, Iris exited her email and opened a random online game in her tabs. She would only be returning to a cramped and quiet apartment if she went home now; might as well stay at One More Chapter a little longer.

Speaking of her favourite book café's name, it was almost ironic how much she hoped to put an end to these predictable, boring "one more chapter"s of her life.

If only she could travel instead of write about it. She would run through flower fields at dawn, have picnics on gondolas, watch the sunrise on mountaintops, take a swim in the vast ocean...

Iris signed again, dispelling her fantasies. Travelling required money—money she lacked.

She should be realistic. Her life was set in stone as it was: Write, send, revise, rewrite, send, rinse and repeat.

Those unfettered smiles, scenic trips, and freedom from life's monotony...

They all belonged to someone else.

Suddenly, an ad popped up in the game's loading screen—an ostentacious pink display which begged to be noticed.

***

Love is a game. Do you want to play? 

12 CONTESTANTS.

5 WEEKS OF ROMANCE AND DECEPTION.

FIND THE IMPOSTERS.

STAND A CHANCE TO WIN $1,000,000!

How well do know your heart? In this unprecedented dating show, test the boundaries of human trust and desire as 12 contestants battle it out to find the couple and the exes hidden among them.

How much do you trust your lover or ex? Will the two of you successfully fool your hunters, or will your feeble rapport lead to elimination? How far will you go to stay undercover?

Sign up for "Beloved Imposter" today!

***

Unconsciously, Iris clicked into the ad. By the time she realised it, she was already skimming through the benefits of participating in "Beloved Imposter", as well as the previews of where the show would be filmed.

There were four venues: City X where she lived, a mountain village in City Y's outskirts, an island town off the coast of City S, and a historical manor in Country H, which was famous for its wine production.

The glossy, unedited pictures promised contestants "a chance to experience the local culture and lifestyle", and damn if she wasn't tempted to sign up right then and there.

But something held her back.

This was an advertisement for a dating show, not a travel brochure.

If she signed up, she would be trading her privacy for the scenery. Besides, "Beloved Imposter" was like the game Mafia and a dating show wrapped into one. It wasn't entirely about finding "love".

Her cursor paused over a line in bold.

Grand prize: $1,000,0000

Iris abruptly slammed her laptop shut. This wouldn't do. She had to cool down for a few minutes otherwise she'd actually sign up. She stood up and made a beeline for the empty counter.

"Hey, Ken. The usual, please," she said to the sole barista behind it.

"Got it, Iris. One Pitaya Coconut Shake coming right up!" Ken shot her a wink and started preparing her order with practiced ease.

While waiting, Iris walked towards the back of the café where rows of birch shelves housed endless books. The ambient music in the background and the clacking of her steps against the hardwood floor coaxed her worries away and into the bustling world outside this cosy establishment.

As Iris perused the shelves, the unique scent of books mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed drinks embraced her like old friends. However, even as she ran her hands along the spines of well-loved books, her mind wandered back to the ad.

'One million dollars.'

'Five weeks.'

Iris arbitrarily picked a paperback and read its synopsis, not really processing the faded words inked upon its cover.

'It's just a guessing game... Should I give it a try?'

'What if I don't win? What if this is just impulse speaking? I'll have to go on dates... And postpone my projects... I'll become a public figure and everyone will judge me. Maybe I shouldn't.'

She shook her head and slid the book into place, but images of different places materialised before her: Brilliant, shimmering waves, sprawling vineyards, and misty mountains.

What if someone else's life... Could be hers as well?

She rounded a corner and crashed into someone.

"Oof!" a man's voice grunted.

"Sorry!" Iris sprung back. "Sorry, I'll just, um..."

Her words trailed off when she saw his face. 

Those unforgettable ocean eyes...

'Skyler?!'