Ruth

She stood on her balcony, the chill of her iced coffee in stark contrast to the warmth of the sun's rays on her skin.

The file Ethan had given her lay open in her hands, its contents a mixture of intrigue and anticipation.

With a determined focus, she meticulously compiled her own file, revealing facets of her life she had long kept hidden. The exchange was meant to bridge the gap between them, to reveal the depths they had yet to explore.

For all the time they had spent together—albeit in a charade—she realized that she knew remarkably little about him.

It was as if they had been inhabiting parallel universes, linked only by the threads of their fabricated marriage.

Their interactions had been confined to the role they played, devoid of any genuine attempt at understanding one another.

A sense of excitement bubbled within her as she sent the file to him, the thought of delving into his world offering a unique thrill.

She had acknowledged the fact that he was a stranger to her, a man with whom she had forged an unconventional alliance.

Opening the file he had provided, Ruth expected to uncover a myriad of details, a glimpse into the life of the enigmatic Ethan Westwood. Yet, as she perused the contents, a sense of incredulity washed over her.

A single paper, a succinct collection of facts, stared back at her. She rifled through the file, but it contained nothing else—just that one sheet of paper, filled on only one side.

"What the fuck?" her exasperation escaped her lips, her eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

The sparse content stared back at her:

Name: Ethan Westwood.

Age: 28

Occupation: CEO and Owner of W Enterprises

Likes:

- Fine Whiskey

- Classical Music

- Antique Literature

Dislikes:

- Superficiality

- Wasting Time

- Injustice

Hobbies:

- Playing the Piano

- Horseback Riding

Interests:

- Art

- Martial Arts

- Technology

________________________

She was taken aback, the discrepancy between their files stark. Her own had been a detailed reflection of her life, a comprehensive narrative that she had hesitantly shared.

His, on the other hand, was a succinct compilation of preferences and interests.

A strange sense of vulnerability washed over her; she felt as though she had exposed too much, opened herself up in ways that he had not reciprocated.

She reached for her phone, an instinctual urge to erase her message before he saw it.

She was determined to retract her willingness to reveal herself so fully when he had been so conservative.

But her hopes of retracting her offer were dashed when she found that he had already read her message.

The realization washed over her—a stark reminder of the uncharted territory they were navigating together.

A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the balcony railing, a mixture of emotions swirling within her. There was no use in trying to undo what was done, no way to reverse the vulnerability she had shared.