Behind the Perfect Smile

Eliana's POV

"I'm telling you," Mia said, waving her phone dramatically, "this realtor guy sounded legit impressed with these listings. I think today's the day we find your place."

"I hope so," I muttered, adjusting my seatbelt as we pulled up to the first house.

What followed was two hours of touring what I'd lovingly describe as Pinterest throw-up. Marble floors, gold chandeliers, sterile white walls—zero warmth. Some were small and cute, some huge and echoey… but none of them felt like me.

Too perfect.

Too bright.

Too… not mine.

Until the last house.

We turned onto a quiet street, and there it was—tucked into the corner like a secret: a double-story, ivy-draped house with faded red bricks and a slightly wild little front garden. The afternoon sun touched the roof like a quiet blessing.

For the first time all day… I breathed.

The kind of breath that's been stuck in your lungs for years.

"This one looks… peaceful," I whispered.

The realtor unlocked the gate. "The owner lives abroad," he explained. "Only the upper floor is for rent. The lower portion is locked and unused."

As I stepped inside, something shifted.

The wooden stairs creaked softly, like the house was stretching awake. Upstairs, light spilled into a narrow hallway. The air smelled of herbs and old wood.

Warm. Lived-in. Quiet.

And then we entered the living room.

Soft pale blue walls, a wide window opening to leafy trees, sunlight pouring in like honey 🍯. The floorboards were worn smooth—golden, glowing. A cushioned window nook with old books stacked like stories waiting to be read.

Vintage furniture. A cozy beige sofa. A wooden coffee table with softened corners. Little clay herb pots hung by the kitchen arch, swaying gently.

"This isn't just pretty," I breathed. "It feels like… something."

"Yeah," Mia whispered. "It feels like a story waiting to be lived in."

The kitchen was open-style—light wood cabinets, slightly chipped but full of character. A tiny breakfast table tucked into the corner. Rosemary and mint hung near the window. Not modern. Not shiny. Just real.

Like pancakes on Sundays.

Late-night chai after a breakdown.

The bathroom had a skylight above, sunlight streaming in. Cream tiles with blue vintage patterns. A claw-foot tub. A wooden mirror. Lavender in the air.

And then… the bedroom.

A vintage bed with a carved headboard, soft linen bedding, a knitted throw. An old wooden vanity with an oval mirror. Sheer white curtains fluttered like sighs in the breeze.

This room wasn't for show.

It was for softness. For me.

This wasn't a house.

It was a hug.

"It feels like…" I placed my hand on the doorway, "home. Not the one I came from. Mine."

The realtor cleared his throat. "There's a locked door at the end of the hallway—it connects to the neighbor's side, but it stays shut. They're relatives of the owner, so if you ever need—"

"Wait," Mia cut in. "Relatives live next door? Handsome relatives?"

The poor guy blinked. "Uh… they're polite."

I smacked her arm. "Shut up."

"What?" she smirked. "I'm just doing a background check."

One last look at the sunlit balcony, the window seat, the soft-spoken walls—and I turned to the realtor.

"I'll take it," I said. "Can we do the paperwork tomorrow? I want to move in ASAP."

He looked surprised. "Yes. Absolutely."

As he stepped outside to make calls, Mia flopped onto the balcony floor like a starfish.

"Eliana Benjamin," she sighed dramatically, "welcome to your main character moment."

I smiled, heart full. "It feels like the first right thing I've done in a long time."

Then… my phone buzzed.

[Dad] Calling…

I froze.

Mia's eyes widened. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I whispered. "Just… didn't expect them to call."

I picked up.

"Hello?"

"Eliana?" my mother's voice came through, rushed. "Are you alright now?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Good," my father added. "There's been an issue with the overseas deal. Our trip might take longer. Possibly a month."

A whole month?

"Oh. Okay," I said, stunned.

"We'll check in regularly," Mom added. "Take care of yourself. Keep resting. We'll talk soon."

Click.

The call ended.

I couldn't stop smiling.

Mia blinked. "Why do you look like you just got proposed to?"

"They're staying abroad. For a month."

She tilted her head. "That's why you're glowing like a Disney princess?"

"I finally get time. No pressure. No surprise drop-ins. No guilt-tripping."

Mia narrowed her eyes. "Who are you? Blind date chaos, viral meltdown, signing a lease?! And now you're happy they won't come back soon?"

I exhaled. Then… I told her everything.

About the hospital.The fear.The plan.Dr. Waylon.

"How I asked him to help me… pretend."

"Pretend?" she echoed.

"To fake memory loss. Just to buy time."

Mia's jaw dropped. "You what?!"

"I wasn't trying to manipulate anyone," I said quickly. "I just… felt like I was drowning. And he didn't lie. But he backed me up. Told them I needed space. And they actually listened."

She was quiet.

Then slowly—"You know what? I get it. That's bold. That's brilliant. And I support it."

Relief surged through me. "Thank you."

"But also…" she squinted. "What's going on between you and Dr. Waylon?"

I blinked. "What?"

"You know…" she wiggled her brows. "Tall. Handsome. Soft voice. Brooding but gentle. Like a medical drama heartthrob. Hmm?"

"Mia."

"So you do think he's hot."

"I mean… objectively, yes. He's kind. And—"

"And soft-spoken, with dreamy brown eyes and those perfectly side-swept bangs—"

"I respect him," I said, whacking her with a pillow. "He's my senior."

"Uh-huh. Tell that to the blush on your face."

"There's no blush."

"There is blush. I can smell the blush."

"Ew! What does that even mean?!"

She cackled. "Girl, you're glowing. Admit it. Tiny crush on Dr. Dreamboat."

"I hate you."

She dodged the second pillow. "No, you don't. You love me. I'll be your maid of honor."

"Focus!" I groaned, face in hands. "Can we please just focus on moving in, not imaginary weddings?!"

She smirked, holding up her phone. "Fine. But after we unpack, we're making a Crush Ranking List™."

I sighed… but smiled.

Because for the first time in forever, my life didn't feel borrowed or rehearsed.

It felt real.

✨ Messy. Beautiful. Unexpected.

And a little exciting. ✨