Married by 9, Divorced by 5

 Chapter 8: Kiss Now, Panic Later

(a.k.a. I Accidentally Caught Feelings and Now the Wedding Planner Thinks We're in Therapy)

Wednesday, 6:29 a.m. | The Morning After the Kiss Heard ‘Round the Penthouse

Waking up next to Bentley Ryder felt like waking up next to a golden retriever in a cologne ad.
Warm. Quiet. Slightly too beautiful to be legal in five countries.

I blinked up at the ceiling, brain fully rebooting after our "definitely real, extremely dangerous, very not fake anymore" kiss last night.

He was still asleep, messy hair, lips slightly parted, arm tossed over the pillow like a romantic movie casualty.

I should’ve gotten up.

I should’ve run. Or screamed. Or at least emotionally dry-cleaned my heart.

Instead, I watched him for ten whole minutes.

And then?

I made him pancakes.

Help.

Wednesday, 9:00 a.m. | Wedding Planning with a Side of Existential Crisis

Enter: Genevieve, our wedding planner.

A tiny French woman with cat-eye glasses and a clipboard sharper than most knives.

“Zis wedding,” she said, sipping her lavender espresso, “is not just event, it is narrative.”

Narrative.

Ma’am, this is a narrative and I’m spiraling in it.

Bentley smiled like he didn’t almost ruin my emotional infrastructure last night.

“We want something elegant,” he said.

“Romantic,” I added, side-eyeing him.

He glanced at me. “Something that feels... real.”

Genevieve clapped once. “Ah! So therapy-style wedding, yes? Like emotional detox but with candles and flowers.”

Bentley grinned.

I choked on my latte.

Wednesday, 1:30 p.m. | Trouble in Tabloid Paradise

We were back at Ryder & Co HQ, and I was avoiding Bentley in the most mature way possible: hiding behind a ficus in the executive lounge.

Until—

“Lila, you need to see this,” his assistant Mia whispered, dragging me into a meeting room and slapping her tablet down like it was radioactive.

Front page. Tabloid. Screaming headline:

💔**Ryder’s Bride-to-Be: Secretly Dating a Mystery Man?**💋
Exclusive photo shows Lila Iyer in an “intimate moment” with another man outside a coffee shop.

I blinked.

The “intimate moment” was literally me hugging Raj, my best friend from college.

He had just gotten engaged.

He also happens to be gay.

Which the article conveniently omitted.

“I can explain,” I said as Bentley entered the room looking like he just found out I’d sold the company for coupons and a glitter bomb.

He didn’t say anything.

Just stared at me.

And for the first time…

He didn’t look angry.

He looked hurt.

Wednesday, 4:00 p.m. | We Finally Fight Like a Real Couple

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Bentley said, pacing the rooftop like he was arguing with a ghost.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” I snapped. “It was a coffee hug! He’s engaged—to a man!”

“I don’t care who he’s engaged to!” he yelled. “I care that the world thinks you’re cheating on me, and you didn’t even warn me about the picture.”

I crossed my arms. “So this is about appearances?”

“No,” he said, voice dropping. “This is about you not trusting me enough to be honest. Again.”

That stung.

Worse than Hazel.

Worse than the wedding.

Because it wasn’t fake anymore.
Not for me.
Not for him.

And when he walked away—

I let him.

Because sometimes, the real stuff? Hurts worse than the lie.

Wednesday, 11:59 p.m. | And Then... Plot Twist

I was curled up on the couch, blanket over my head, contemplating faking a coma until the wedding, when my phone buzzed again.

Blocked number.

New photo.

Another tabloid shot. This one of Bentley...

With Hazel.

Looking way too cozy for two people who “don’t talk anymore.”

The caption?

BREAKING: Sources confirm the couple may be reuniting—just weeks before his wedding. Is the billionaire bachelor back with his ex?

I didn’t even have the energy to scream.

Just one clear, aching thought:

What if I’m the only one who thought this was real?

Chapter 9: Rehearsals, Revelations, and Regrets


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