—What kind of favor?
I let out a nervous laugh.
—It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud…
“Try it,” he replied with a gentle challenge.
—I have my high school reunion this weekend. My ex-girlfriend is going to be there… with her new boyfriend. Very rich. Very successful.
I paused, looking directly at her.
—I joked with some friends that I should show up with a fake date. Someone mature, self-assured… the kind of person they’d never expect.
Camila let out a small laugh, light as the clinking of a glass, and then looked at me silently.
I instantly wanted to swallow my words.
—I was just kidding. Really. It’s a silly idea. Forget I said it.
“When is it?” he asked, interrupting my hurried retreat.
My heart stopped for a second.
-That?
—I asked when the meeting is.
I stood motionless for a few seconds, trying to decipher her expression. There was no mockery in her eyes. Only serenity… and a spark that was difficult to interpret.
—Friday night… at a hotel downtown.
She nodded slowly.
“I’m free on Friday,” he said casually, as if we were planning to go to the movies. “I’ll help you.”
I blinked several times.
—Are you serious?
“Why not?” she replied with a slight smile. “Unless you think your friends won’t believe it.”
—No! It’s not that. It’s just that… you surprised me.
The elevator doors opened on our floor. She stepped out first and then turned to me.
—Then it’s decided. Send me the details by message.
She walked down the hallway, the sound of her heels echoing softly on the floor.
I stood still inside the elevator, feeling my heart beating faster than normal.
My aunt Camila —elegant, mysterious— had just agreed to pretend to be my girlfriend without hesitating for a second.
Was this normal?
Or is it completely insane?
Maybe… a little of both.
Friday arrived faster than I imagined.
I spent the entire week surrounded by cables, servers, and support tickets, but my mind was elsewhere. Every time my phone vibrated, I hoped it was a message from Camila canceling, saying she’d changed her mind. It didn’t happen.
On Friday at seven o’clock sharp, there was a knock at my door.
When I opened it, I was speechless.
Camila wore a dark blue dress, elegant yet understated, that accentuated her figure with grace. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her makeup was subtle, highlighting her deep eyes. She didn’t look overdone. She looked… perfect.
“Very formal?” he asked with a half-smile.
—No… you look amazing —I replied, perhaps too quickly.
She tilted her head slightly, amused.
—Relax, Mateo. We’re just going to a high school reunion, not a red carpet event.
I closed the door behind us and we went down to the parking lot. During the car ride there was a comfortable silence, but one charged with something new. It wasn’t uncomfortable tension. It was anticipation.
“Are you nervous?” he asked, looking out the window.
“A little,” I admitted. “Not for them. For me.”
She turned towards me.
—So tonight isn’t about proving anything to them. It’s about you remembering who you are.
Those words stayed with me.
