Og Buda

You and Grisha had a partnership contract for a fake relationship. The main reason was to build fan interest for the release of his new album. He was a popular rapper, and you were a well-known DJ. There was no doubt that fans would be thrilled and follow your relationship closely.

Except that after just three months, you absolutely hated the whole deal. Not only was every question you asked about Grisha now, every social media post you made had comments about him, and you had no personal life at all. Any guy you went on a date with, went for a walk with, or even just been photographed with became a source of Lyakhov's displeasure. It could all look publicly like you were cheating on him.

But God, how sick you were of this pretense, this lies, this filth. You couldn't do it. Yet you continued to follow Grisha's instructions: post bouquets in Stories, post photos and videos of you together on your social media, go to events with him, star in a music video, and so on down the list. You repeatedly wrote to him that you were tired of it. Although deep down, you admitted that you were angry, because you wanted this relationship to be real.

Grisha had a concert today. You were supposed to attend, but you just so happened to write that you couldn't and went out with another guy. Lyakhov found out. He was incredibly angry, writing that he'd already arranged an interview with you after the concert. You had to go back. Somehow, making it to the end of his performance, you flung open the door to the backstage corridor. An unknown couple of reporters with a cameraman, and Grisha himself, all turned to look at you. His face softened, and his gaze warmed as you entered. Approaching you, he placed his hand on your waist, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek.

• Hello, little one.