Tyler hadn't planned to become someone else, not at first.

It started with boredom—a lazy evening stretched thin between his classes and nothing exciting on Instagram. His finger had hovered over the screen, scrolling aimlessly, when the idea struck him.

Taylor.

His twin sister, the impossibly pretty, effortlessly detached Taylor, who never cared for social media or the endless validation it offered.

Her life revolved around sketchbooks, novels, and a general disdain for what Tyler adored: attention.

She wouldn't do it herself, so why not help her along?

The idea had felt harmless at first, a little experiment. He had made the account, snapped a picture of her sleeping—light streaming through the blinds, her face serene—and uploaded it. He had even crafted a perfect bio:

Taylor Miller – Dreamer. Creator. Beauty in simplicity.

The likes and comments came faster than Tyler expected, flooding his phone with notifications. Compliments poured in, and his grin widened with every ding.

But amidst the flood of praise, a single comment stood out:

"All that glitters is not gold."

It was from an account with no profile picture, no real name, just a generic username with a string of numbers.

The audacity prickled at Tyler's skin. He stared at the words, his jaw tightening.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he wondered.

Before he knew it, he was typing furiously.

:Care to explain?

The response came quickly.

:Really busy, no time for that. Excuse me.

Tyler scoffed, the nerve of this faceless nobody igniting a fire in him. He jumped into the DM, determined to teach this person a lesson.

But after sending a frustrated message, he waited—what felt like an eternity—for the person to say Something back. The lack of response irritated him even more. Finally, the stranger replied.

A heated exchange unfolded.

:Okay fine. Sorry if I must say... but your picture just reminded me of someone I really hate.

The words were blunt and rude, and Tyler's annoyance grew.

:So you lash out at random people because of your past? That's mature.

What started as an argument morphed into a strange, winding conversation. To Tyler's surprise, the person's attitude—sharp and unapologetic—became oddly entertaining.

Hours blurred into the night as they messaged back and forth. By the next day, Tyler found himself looking forward to their exchanges.

Introductions followed: Tanner O'Brien, twenty-six years old, from Paris, a CEO who had only created an Instagram account for work.

Day by day, their chats grew more frequent. Tyler began ignoring his friends at the campus, growing distant from his family, and spending hours glued to his phone.

Tanner's words lingered in his mind longer than they should. He found himself smiling or laughing at memories of their conversations.

One day, after a long lecture, Tyler lay on his bed, waiting impatiently for Tanner to message him after his meeting that he had mentioned. "What am I doing?" he asked himself, trying to justify his actions.

He told himself he was just toying with Tanner, punishing him for the rude comment.

But when Tanner asked for pictures, Tyler sent more of Taylor to keep up the illusion. Each picture felt like a betrayal, but Tyler convinced himself it was harmless.

Out of curiosity of what Tanner would think of him, he sent a picture of himself , introducing it as the brother when in real sense he is talking about himself.

Weeks passed. The flirtation started unnoticed and it turned intense with no time.

Tanner confessed how these conversations made him feel and how he longed for them, and Tyler found himself agreeing to date him—not because he thinks that he feels the same, but because he couldn't bear the thought of losing Tanner. He liked it, or rather him.

Then came the message that changed everything.

Tanner: Love, did I mention I have a branch of my company in New York? Anyway, that doesn't matter. What matters is that next week I have an event there! I'll be in New York! We'll finally get to meet.

Tyler's stomach twisted. He knew this had gone too far. But every time he tried to pull away, Tanner's charm reeled him back in, feeling like a drug.

He tried with all he got to ignore Tanner's messages and calls that week , he wanted to block the number but he couldn't bring himself to doing it.

He knew there was no way he was going to meet up with Tanner , so the only option he had was to ignore him and maybe end the relationship, but he couldn't.

○●Present,,,

The week passed in a blur, and monday evening is here, Tyler is still paralyzed by indecision.

Tanner is in town , expecting to meet Taylor—or rather, the version of her Tyler had created.

Tyler hears the front door open and rushes downstairs, eager to congratulate his father on his promotion and also to distract himself from the unbearable thoughts of Tanner. But as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he freezes.

Standing in the living room is a man who looks as if he has just walked out of a magazine.

Tall, with a sharp jawline, piercing gray eyes, and dressed head to toe in black—a pull neck and a long trench coat. Just like he told him that he likes to dress.

Tyler's heart stops. He doesn't need an introduction to know who it is.

"This is our CEO, Tanner O'Brien," his father announces, his voice filled with pride. "He's visiting from Paris. His hotel had a booking issue, so we're hosting him for the night."

Tanner's gaze lands on Tyler, and for a moment, there is no recognition. Then his eyes narrows slightly, as if piecing together a puzzle.

Tyler feels his stomach drop as realization dawns in Tanner's expression. The flicker of surprise is brief, replaced quickly by an unreadable look—a mask of professionalism.

"Tyler, say hello to Mr. O'Brien," his mother prompts.

Tyler forces a tight smile, his palms clammy. "Welcome… to our home."

As Tanner shakes his hand, his grip firm but composed, his gray eyes hold Tyler's for just a moment too long.

"Thank you," Tanner says, his voice smooth and polite. But beneath the surface, Tyler could sense something else. Amusement? Curiosity? Whatever it was, it terrifies him.

Tyler pulls his hand back quickly, his thoughts racing. One thing is clear: whatever game he thought he was playing, is over!

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