"I don't want this anymore, River... I don't love you."
His world collapsed in an instant.
River dropped to his knees, the words echoing in his head as if they refused to settle into reality.
"That's not possible, Zandra..." His voice came out barely above a whisper—fragile, pleading. His hands trembled as he stared at the woman in front of him.
Zandra shook her head, her gaze cold and distant. "I'm done. I feel suffocated... You're too possessive. And when you're angry..." she hesitated, then finished quietly, "you scare me."
Each word tightened around his chest like a vice.
River sank to the ground, numb. He didn't understand why it always ended like this. Every woman he had ever loved—gone. And always for the same reason.
The moment they saw his anger... they left.
And him? He was always the one left behind. Again and again.
—
A week passed in a blur of alcohol.
Every night, he drank—like it was the only way to silence the weight in his chest, even if just for a few hours.
Until one night, someone sat beside him. Without asking, she took the bottle from his hand.
He turned, ready to protest—but stopped when their eyes met. She was beautiful.
"Stop drinking," she said simply.
Before he could respond, she slipped something into his hand—a calling card.
Psychiatrist. He frowned. "What?"
She only tapped his arm, as if trying to tell him something he couldn't quite grasp.
"What the hell..." he muttered.
When he looked up, she was already walking away.
He stood immediately and followed her out to the parking lot.
"Hey!" he called, half-annoyed, half-confused.
She stopped and turned to him. Her eyes flicked briefly to the card in his hand, then she smiled—soft, knowing.
"I'm Ericka, by the way."
He didn't respond right away.
"You needed that," she added, like she was certain.
And before he could ask anything else, she turned and left.
River stood there, staring at the card, his thoughts even more tangled than before.
He let out a long breath.
He didn't know whether to be irritated... or to believe her.
The Next Day.. He didn't know what came over him, but he called the number on the card.
Maybe he was just tired... Tired of himself.
—
A month later. A month of sessions. Questions. Silence. Answers he didn't always want to face.
Now, sitting in the hospital garden after another session, something felt different.
He wasn't okay. But he wasn't the same either.
"I see you're here." He turned—and there she was... The woman who took his drink. The one who gave him the card.
She smiled. "I'm Ericka, by the way."
He nodded slightly. He already knew. He remembered her name.
"Why are you here?" he asked directly. She didn't look sick. Didn't look like she was carrying anything heavy.
She hesitated. "I just... don't like sharing what I feel with people. But somehow... I feel like I can tell you."
He gave a small smile. There was something familiar in the weight of her voice.
"I was bullied before," she began. "Because my boyfriend was a model."
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself.
"Someone poured hot coffee on me. Second-degree burns." She shut her eyes briefly. "Damn... it's still hard to talk about."
River let out a quiet laugh—not because it was funny, but because of the way she said it.
For a moment, the heaviness lifted.
And then, slowly, she opened up. River listened in silence.
"and then that incident happened," Ericka said quietly. "Since then, I can't drink or eat anything hot. I guess it really affected me more than I thought."
She let out a small, breathless laugh, as if trying to lighten something that clearly still hurt.
"So I started seeing a psychiatrist," she continued. "And now... I'm just trying to fix myself."
Then he remembered.
"Why did you give me this?" he asked, holding up the calling card he still kept.
Ericka looked at it, her expression softening.
"I saw you that night," she said. "You were with a girl. You were begging her not to leave you. And I saw you before that, you were punching some guy near the alley of a boutique because he touches some girls butt."
River looked down, the memory hitting harder than he expected.
"So..." she continued, slipping back and forth between thoughts, almost laughing at herself, "I figured you were struggling. I know someone like you. I thought they were fine too—but they weren't. With the right doctor... they got better."
She smiled at him. And somehow, something inside him began to make sense.
"I'm River Cruz," he said quietly.
She nodded, accepting it without question.
And that's where it began.
Ericka became his best friend.
Unexpected. Unplanned. It just... happened.
Maybe it was because they both carried wounds they didn't know how to heal. Maybe that's why understanding each other came so easily.
People always assumed there was something between them. That they were more than friends.
The funny thing? They both hated the idea. But they never denied it either.
Not because it was true— but because it was convenient.
River didn't want a girlfriend. Not yet. He wasn't ready to risk becoming the person he used to be—the version of himself that hurt people without meaning to.
And Ericka? She became his shield.
From questions. From blind dates. From every forced introduction his mother tried to arrange.
And in return— he would protect her.
From anyone who tried to hurt her.
Even though... deep down, he knew— sometimes, the real enemy wasn't other people.
Sometimes, it was the wounds they were both still running from.
---
River leaned against the hood of his car, arms crossed, watching Ericka approach from across the parking lot.
She raised an eyebrow the moment she noticed the look on his face. "Why do you look like you're about to ask for a favor?"
"I am asking for a favor."
She stopped in front of him, already suspicious. "No."
"I haven't even said anything yet."
"I know you. It's going to be something stupid."
River let out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair. "It's not stupid. It's... strategic."
"That sounds worse."
He sighed, then finally said it.
"Go with me today as my girlfriend."
Ericka blinked.
Then she stared at him like he had completely lost his mind. "Excuse me?"
"Not actually," he said quickly. "Just... pretend."
She crossed her arms. "River, I'm one step away from walking out."
"Listen," he continued, stepping closer. "My mom's been setting me up with random girls again. And at the gym—basketball court—same thing. It's getting annoying."
"And I'm your solution?"
"You're my best friend," he said simply. "And you're the only one I trust to pull it off without making it weird."
She narrowed her eyes. "It's already weird."
He smirked slightly. "You said you're trying to fix yourself, right? Think of this as... exposure therapy."
She let out a laugh. "Wow. You really just used therapy against me?"
"Is it working?"
She shook her head, but there was a small smile forming. "You're unbelievable."
"So... is that a yes?"
She stared at him for a moment longer, then sighed dramatically. "Fine. But only because I know you're desperate."
River grinned. "You won't regret it."
"Oh, I already do."
—
The next afternoon, the basketball court was loud—sneakers squeaking, balls bouncing, voices echoing.
River wiped the sweat from his face as he stepped off the court, his teammates still playing behind him.
That's when he saw them.
A group of girls by the bleachers. Watching him. One of them waved.
He groaned under his breath. "Here we go..."
"Hey, River!" one of them called, smiling a little too brightly.
He forced a polite nod, about to respond—
When suddenly— An arm slipped around his. He froze. Ericka.
She leaned casually against him, her head tilting slightly toward his shoulder like it belonged there.
"Hi," she said sweetly, her voice completely different from usual. Softer. Playful. "You didn't tell me you had fans."
River glanced down at her, caught off guard.
She looked up at him briefly—just enough to send a silent message.
Play along.
He exhaled slowly, then wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her shoulder.
"Didn't think it was important," he said.
The girls exchanged glances.
"Oh..." one of them said, clearly thrown off. "You didn't say you had a girlfriend."
Ericka smiled, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. "He doesn't like to brag."
River almost laughed.
Instead, he pulled her a little closer. "Yeah. She gets jealous."
Ericka pinched his side—hard—while still smiling.
"Ow—" he coughed, quickly turning it into a laugh.
The girls looked uncomfortable now.
"Well... we didn't mean to interrupt," one of them muttered.
"It's fine," Ericka said lightly. "We were just about to leave anyway."
She looked up at River. "Right, babe?"
There was a brief pause. River met her eyes.
Then, without hesitation— "Yeah. Let's go."
He grabbed his towel and slung it over his shoulder, his hand naturally finding hers.
As they walked away, Ericka kept her act—fingers intertwined with his, leaning slightly into him like it was second nature.
Only when they were far enough did she let go.
Silence. Then— "You owe me," she said.