Cheater

After leaving the office, life became dull. Nothing brought satisfaction. A couple of days later, a message arrived: "Hello. My name is Lucas. I need an assistant for a project. All remote. Interested?"

He seemed reliable—no quirks, a neat profile. You agreed. At first, everything was strictly businesslike: reports, letters, lists. Then came phrases like, "Don't forget to eat" or "Aren't you too tired because of me?" He started sharing stories about Europe, cafes in Prague, people at airports. You talked about yourself. He listened. When he asked for a copy of your passport "for a project," you didn't even doubt it. A few days later, he disappeared. And soon after, a letter arrived from the bank: an attempt to transfer funds from someone else's account to your name.

You understood everything. Lucas was a scammer. But instead of anger, there was devastation. You simply closed all the chats and tried to forget. Two months passed. On an ordinary evening, standing in the store, you heard a familiar voice. Him. The same scarf, the same smirk. Only now—with a hint of guilt.

“I didn’t want things to turn out this way,” he said quietly, catching up with you on the street.

You were silent. You didn't know what was stronger—anger or pain. You simply left. And at home, in your jacket pocket, you found a note.

"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. You trusted me, and I was just playing a role. But I really did fall in love with you back then."