PART 1
I hired an actor to stand beside me at my high school reunion because I didn’t think I could face my old bully and my ex-husband by myself. I thought I was only paying for one evening of courage. But when my bully recognized him, the story she had built around me finally began to collapse.
That afternoon, I wiped the words “Unreliable Narrator” from the whiteboard as my last literature student left the lecture hall.
“Remember,” I called after them, “the person telling the story isn’t always the one telling the truth.”
A few students laughed, and for one peaceful moment, I felt steady.
Then my phone vibrated.
The message was from Miriam.
“Come to our reunion. Everyone will be there. Even your ex, Mark—my fiancé now. We’re so excited to see you. XOXO.”
In one second, I was seventeen again.
Miriam had made my high school years miserable. She mocked my secondhand sweaters, my library books, and the way I answered questions in class. She called me “Miss Perfect” so often that people stopped calling me Daphne.
Years later, she found Mark, my husband, and gave him a new story about me. According to her, I was cold, judgmental, difficult, and impossible to love.
And Mark believed her.
By the time I realized what was happening, Miriam’s voice had already entered my marriage.
For two weeks, I stared at that invitation every night.
My friend Claire found me in my office one afternoon and read the message.
“Delete it,” she said. “You’re not going.”
“If I don’t go, she’ll tell everyone I was too scared to show my face.”
“Let her talk.”
“That’s the problem,” I said quietly. “I always did.”
Claire’s expression softened.
“Then don’t go alone.”
That night, I opened my laptop and did something my tired, wounded mind somehow decided was logical.
I hired an actor as my plus-one.
Not a boyfriend. Not a romantic date. Just an actor from a real agency for one social event. I didn’t need love. I needed one person beside me who had not already heard Miriam’s version of who I was.
His name was Norton.
We met two days before the reunion at a coffee shop near campus. He arrived in a gray blazer, calm, handsome, and professional enough to make me consider leaving through the back door.
“You’re Daphne?” he asked.
“Unfortunately.”
His mouth curved slightly. “That bad?”
“I’m hiring a stranger to help me survive a high school reunion. You tell me.”
“Fair.”
He sat across from me and reviewed the details.
“No fake romance. No kissing. No jealousy performance,” he said. “Your notes were very clear.”
“I teach English,” I replied. “I hate cheap fiction.”
He laughed, and I finally relaxed a little.
“So what is my role?”
“A steady witness,” I said. “Miriam bullied me for years. Then she helped destroy my marriage by feeding my ex the same kind of lies. Now she invited me to watch her stand beside him.”
Norton’s face changed. Not with pity, but with focus.
“That’s cruel.”
“She’s very good at cruel.”
“Do you want me to pretend we’re together?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t want to lie more than necessary. I just want one night where I don’t feel like I have to apologize for existing.”
Norton nodded.
“Then when she looks at you like she won,” he said, “look back.”
My eyes burned.
“You make that sound easy.”
“I didn’t say easy,” he replied. “I said possible.”
He signed the contract.
“Steady witness,” he said. “No fake romance. No lies we can’t undo. Deal.”
PART 2
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