I thought I had crafted the perfect lie—charming stories of rural life that my boss adored. But when he decided to visit for Christmas, I faced a nightmare: exposing my truth or pulling off the biggest act of my life. I never expected what happened next.
My journalism career was built on an illusion. Each week, I spun tales of rustic charm—freshly baked pies cooling on the windowsill, clucking hens in the yard, and crisp mornings spent in nature.
I lived in a cramped city apartment where the closest thing to a farm was a carton of organic eggs in my fridge.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Everything changed when I opened a letter from my editor, Steven. His words made my stomach churn:
“My wife and I will join you for Christmas. It will be the perfect way to prove your column’s authenticity!”
My pulse quickened, and the walls of my tiny office seemed to close in. Refusing wasn’t an option. Steven was the reason my career had flourished. Disappointing him would mean risking everything.
Still, how am I supposed to transform my fabricated stories into reality?
After hours of frantic searching, I found a rental in Vermont. The photos showed a quaint little house, perfect for the backdrop of my rural fairytale.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The owner, Mrs. Ruth, responded to my inquiry with short, clipped messages, but I was too desperate to care.
When I arrived, Mrs. Ruth greeted me at the door with a look that could curdle milk.
She held out the keys without a smile. “Don’t ruin anything.”
“Thank you for letting me rent the house. I’ll take good care of it.”
“City folks always say that. We’ll see.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Her words felt like a slap, but I couldn’t afford to waste energy sparring with her. Instead, I took the keys and stepped inside.
Dropping my bags, I took a deep breath. I had just a few days to turn this cold, skeptical house into the picture-perfect life Steven expected.
And Mrs. Ruth? She’d better stay out of my way.
