Entangled by Deceit

Julia

The noise from the TV droned on in the background, a blur of sound that was barely enough to drown out the silence of the apartment. Three months. That’s how long it had been since David passed. It felt surreal, like some twisted dream that I couldn’t wake up from. Friends and family had done their best to be there for me, but even they had to move on with their lives. And here I was, sitting on the couch, staring at a blank phone screen, trying to muster up the courage to open that app.

“You’re still young, Julia,” my boss, Lisa, had said just yesterday. Her voice was soft but firm, in that way that only she could manage. “You need to get back out there. David wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone.”

I knew she was right. David had been my rock, my partner, not just in life but in work too. We’d been on assignment together the night he collapsed. He always did have a tendency to push himself too hard, and he paid the ultimate price for it. It wasn’t fair, but then, nothing in life really was.

I glanced at the dating app on my phone, Lisa’s voice echoing in my mind. “Meet someone new,” she’d said. “Just talk to people. You’ll never know what might happen.”

My fingers hovered over the icon, and I took a deep breath before tapping it open. Immediately, a series of faces and names appeared, each profile a stranger with a smile and a caption that promised something unique. Or, at least, they all thought they did. I swiped through them, one by one, feeling a pang of guilt every time I saw a face I liked. Moving on felt wrong, like I was betraying David somehow, but the alternative was the cold emptiness that had consumed me since he was gone.

And then, I saw him. Ethan. He didn’t look like the other men on the app. His smile was soft, a little crooked, and he wore a simple t-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. His profile read, “Just a guy looking for something real in a world full of fakes.” I snorted, amused by the irony, but I couldn’t help but be intrigued. There was something genuine in his eyes, or at least it seemed that way from the photo. I could almost see a hint of pain hidden beneath the surface, a reflection of my own struggles, maybe.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the like button. This is just for fun, I told myself. It doesn’t have to mean anything. With a resigned sigh, I tapped it. A second later, the app notified me that we had matched. My heart did a little skip, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe Lisa was right. Maybe I did need this.

Ethan

Love? It was a word I had discarded a long time ago; a concept I’d convinced myself was nothing more than a fairy tale sold to people too afraid to face the truth. My parents had taught me that early on, their marriage a warzone of broken promises and shattered dreams. And then there was my brother, Thomas. We’d been inseparable, twins with a bond that most people could never understand. And then, just like that, he was gone. Brain tumor, they said, as if that could sum up the loss in two simple words. I was twelve years old, and the only person who ever really understood me was gone.

Since then, life had been about survival. I wasn’t stupid. I knew the world didn’t owe me anything, and I was damn sure it wouldn’t hand me anything on a silver platter. I found my way into the scam business young, and I thrived. I knew what women wanted, and I knew how to give it to them, or at least pretend I could. It was all about the performance, and I was a master at it.

So, when Julia’s profile came up, I didn’t think twice. She looked serious, with her hair pulled back and a look in her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and hidden fears. She was exactly the type of woman I could manipulate, someone looking for comfort and companionship, maybe a little bit of security. Easy target.

I typed out a quick message: “Hi Julia, I’m Ethan. You look like you have an interesting story. Care to share?” I knew how to bait the hook, and I’d done it a thousand times before.

Her reply came faster than I expected. “Hi Ethan. Not much to tell, really. Just trying to get back out there.”

Her words were guarded, a little stiff, and I could almost hear the hesitation in them. It wasn’t the warm, eager response I usually got, but there was something intriguing about her reserve. For a moment, I found myself curious, genuinely curious, and that wasn’t something I could afford. Curiosity meant vulnerability, and I wasn’t in the business of making myself vulnerable.

Still, I replied. I couldn’t help it. “Getting back out there can be tough. Been there myself. But hey, maybe we can figure it out together?”

She sent back a smiley face, and I felt a strange flicker in my chest. It was almost imperceptible, but there was no denying it. I brushed it off. This was just another job, just another mark. I couldn’t let myself forget that. But as I set my phone down, I found myself wondering, for the first time in a long time, if maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this