If someone told me last month that a tiny lie would drag me into a brand new life, I would've laughed. But here I am, standing in front of my mirror wearing clothes I once used to walk past on display, pretending like I was invisible to them.
"Look at you," I whispered to my reflection, tilting my head. "Luxury from head to toe… all because people think you're dying."
The funny part is I'm not even guilty. Not one bit. Everyone treats me like I'm some fragile glass doll, and honestly, I love it. Free things, soft voices, doors opening for me. Even Ms Wilder, a literal queen of a woman, dragged me to the biggest mall in the city and said, "Lilian, get anything you want."
Tell me why I shouldn't enjoy it.
"This is crazy," I said to myself one night, lying on my bed with my new designer bag beside me. "All this… because I lied."
And the truth?
I don't regret it.
Not even a little.