Lexi had always been good at pretending. That was part of the job, right? Influencers were supposed to smile through migraines, post hauls after breakups, laugh while filming "day in the life" content during identity crises. Lexi had mastered it.
Smile. Edit. Upload. Repeat.
And now, she was using it like armor.
Because if she thought too long about the text on Noah's screen—"Are we going to talk about that kiss last night?"—her hands would shake. Her voice might break.
So, she pretended harder.
⸻
The week after her family's estate lunch was a blur of neon lighting and avoidance. Lexi was barely home. She left early, came back late, and sometimes not at all. She'd always been social, but now it felt different. Now she was curating a version of herself that Noah didn't get to see.
She filmed four solo videos in three days. In one, she was laughing with Gia on the kitchen counter, cutting fruit and talking about "red flags in men." In another, she was doing a haul in the bedroom, purposefully shooting from angles that didn't show Noah's side of the closet.
She even posted a clip with a cheeky caption:
"Married but never too busy for girl time."
The comments ate it up.
Noah watched from across the room, unseen.
⸻
She wasn't cruel. Just distant.
Detached.
He tried a few times.
Left her favorite cereal out with a spoon. Replaced her dying phone charger. Once, he offered to cook dinner again.
Lexi smiled—small, polite—and said she had other plans.
"Content creator mixer," she said. "Networking."
Then she was gone.
⸻
Three days later, she boarded a flight to the opposite coast. Brianna Taylor, a high-end fashion influencer with a marble bathroom bigger than Lexi's living room, was throwing a micro-retreat for a handful of creator friends.
Lexi packed three bags, none of them with her usual pajama shorts or messy topknot hair ties. She was dressing for power now. For aesthetics. She wanted to feel untouchable.
She didn't tell Noah she was going.
Not directly, anyway. He found out the usual way—through her story.
She posted a boomerang at the airport with prosecco in hand and Gia waving in the background.
Noah stared at it, alone in their kitchen, the fridge humming louder than usual.
⸻
The house in California was ridiculous. White stone columns, ivy-covered balconies, a fire pit on the rooftop, and a pool that glowed purple at night.
Lexi stepped onto the terrace in a silk wrap dress, hair slicked back, earrings swinging. She looked like a woman who had never cried into a pint of Ben & Jerry's over a man who forgot to explain a text.
Brianna handed her a flute of prosecco.
"To new content, no clingy men, and sponsored sunsets," she toasted.
Lexi laughed, clinking glasses. "I'll drink to that."
They took a video—string lights overhead, music in the background. Lexi and the girls danced, laughed, and showed off their outfits. Brianna's boyfriend wandered into frame briefly, offering a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries.
Then someone else stepped into the shot.
Jake Cooper.
Tall. Smirking. Irritatingly charming. The kind of guy who knew he was controversial and leaned into it. He was also one of Noah's long-time online enemies.
Lexi laughed at something Jake said and swatted his shoulder playfully. He winked. The video ended.
⸻
Noah watched it in their apartment, two thousand miles away. Once. Twice. Then a third time with the sound on.
Jake Cooper.
That guy.
Jake made a name for himself by mocking other creators. And Noah had been his favorite punching bag for the better part of a year. He still remembered the viral video where Jake stitched one of his motivational posts with the line:
"This man couldn't survive 48 hours in a zombie apocalypse. The moment his hair gel runs out, he's done."
Noah had ignored him. Until now.
He replayed Lexi's laugh. The way she leaned in. The way Jake looked at her.
He didn't realize his jaw was clenched until he caught his own reflection in the dark window.
⸻
Around the rooftop fire pit, Lexi was buzzed on prosecco and adrenaline. Brianna's playlist switched to something slow and nostalgic, and the girls began exchanging horror dating stories.
Lexi took a long sip. "One time, a guy told me I was 'chubby but cute' and then tried to make me pay for dessert—after he ordered wine, steak, and two sides."
Jake choked on his drink. "Please tell me you dumped your water on him."
"No," Lexi said. "But I did steal his sunglasses on the way out."
Jake laughed. "Legend."
She smiled, drunk and warm and reckless. "What about you? Ever been dumped on a livestream?"
Jake smirked. "Only emotionally."
Then he leaned forward, voice lowering. "So is your 'husband' still your plus-one? Or are you open to upgrades?"
Lexi's breath caught.
She managed a laugh. "Are you always this direct?"
"Only with women who deserve better."
⸻
Back home, Noah stared at his phone.
Comment after comment.
"Lexi and Jake have insane chemistry."
"New couple unlocked?"
"Did she leave her husband for Jake?"
"#Nexit?"
Noah gripped the edge of the couch.
He wanted to say it didn't matter. That he and Lexi had rules. That they weren't real.
But his chest ached.
⸻
Lexi curled up in the guest bed later, still in her silk dress, makeup slightly smudged. Her phone buzzed.
A message from Noah:
You good?
She stared at it. Tapped it. Closed it. Then opened Instagram.
Jake had posted a clip of them laughing by the fire pit.
Captioned:
"Fun night with @LexNova. Her husband's a lucky guy. If he screws up, I'm next in line."
Lexi let out a tired exhale. A laugh caught somewhere between amusement and dread.
She didn't reply to Noah.
She didn't know what to say.