He Asked Me To Pretend To Be His Girlfriend For One Family Dinner. That Was Two Years Ago.
I've met his grandparents. They gave me ang pau at Chinese New Year. I don't know how to stop.
Names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals involved.
It started with a favour. That's the thing I keep coming back to. Just a favour between friends.
Darren and I had been close for about three years. Not together — just the kind of close where you can text at 1am and the other person picks up, where you've eaten each other's leftovers without asking.
Last Raya, he called me in a panic. His family was having a big open house. All the relatives coming. His mum had been asking about his love life for months and he'd mentioned a vague "someone I'm seeing" to get her off his back. Now the aunties wanted to meet her.
"Just one open house," he said. "Makan, meet the family, balik. I'll belanja you makan for a month."
I said yes because I was free that day and I genuinely felt bad for him.
The open house was fine. His mum was warm and kept putting rendang on my plate. His aunties asked the usual questions — where I work, where my family is from, do I know how to cook. I answered everything with a smile. At one point Darren put his hand on my back and I didn't move away. It felt natural. That should have been a sign.
Problem was, I was apparently very convincing.
His mum called him the next day and said the family liked me a lot. She started asking when I was coming back. He panicked and said yes to one more dinner. Then there was a cousin's wedding. "Just this one more," he said. Then Hari Raya second day — another family gathering. Then his nenek's birthday. Then Chinese New Year at his grandparents' house in Ipoh, two hours away, where his nenek pinched my cheek and his grandad said I reminded him of a girl from his kampung.
His grandparents gave me ang pau. RM100.
That was the first time. Last month they gave me RM120 because, his grandad said, "dah naik pangkat sikit."
I have attended fourteen family events as Darren's girlfriend. I have a favourite seat at his parents' dining table. His dog likes me more than it likes him. I know where his mum keeps the extra towels.
This year's Raya is coming and I'm already planning what colour to wear.
Here is what makes this both funny and genuinely concerning: I cannot identify the exact moment it stopped feeling like pretending.
Darren and I don't talk about it directly. We talk around it, occasionally. Last month he said, "You know you don't have to keep doing this if it's weird for you." I said, "It's not weird." Then we watched TV in silence for two hours.
Is it weird? Honestly, I don't know anymore. I might like him. I think he might like me. But we have never, in two years and fourteen events, had a proper conversation about what we actually are.
His mum asked me recently if we were thinking about the future. I said, "Nanti la, Auntie, baru dua tahun." She seemed happy with that answer.
Two years. Two Rayas. RM220 in ang pau.
Whose side are you on?
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The Verdict
Darren should never have let it get this far — one open house became two Rayas and fourteen events, and every time Melissa showed up, he made it worse without ever addressing it. But Melissa kept showing up. Fourteen times. Two years. She could have said "Darren, we need to talk about this" at literally any point, and she didn't. Both of them are avoiding a conversation that has been overdue for about 23 months. The family is collateral damage — genuinely attached to someone who technically doesn't exist yet. Sort it out, you two. Raya is coming and the aunties will ask again.