I glanced at the guy sitting across from me, nervously fidgeting with his fingers. “If I pay you, will you please pretend to be my friend, just this week?” he asked, his eyes filled with a mix of desperation and loneliness.

I raised an eyebrow, thinking it was some weird joke. “You serious?” I replied, sipping on my soda.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the tabletop. “I’ve never had any friends, and I just want to experience what it’s like. I’ll pay you, of course. I’m not expecting anything for free.”

I considered it for a moment, intrigued by the unusual request. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” I said with a smirk, not fully grasping the weight of his loneliness.

Little did I know, that week was about to be a rollercoaster of emotions.

We went to movies, grabbed fast food, and shared laughs. He talked about his dreams and fears, and I played along, pretending to be the best buddy he never had.

The money? Honestly, I forgot about it after the first day.

We had this routine – breakfast at the diner, afternoon walks in the park, and late-night gaming sessions. It felt oddly natural, like we’d been friends forever. He was a good guy, just a bit socially awkward, and I found myself genuinely enjoying his company.

As the week went on, he started opening up more. “You know, I’ve never done this before. Just hung out with someone. It’s weird, but I like it,” he confessed one evening, his eyes searching mine for reassurance.

I chuckled, patting him on the back. “Well, welcome to the world of friendship, my dude.”

But then, just when I was getting used to our newfound camaraderie, he dropped the bomb. “I have something to tell you,” he said, his voice shaky. We were at our usual spot in the park, surrounded by the sounds of rustling leaves and distant laughter.

I nodded, expecting another quirky revelation about his life. “Shoot.”

He took a deep breath. “This is my last week, you know. I’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and I wanted to experience friendship before...” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

My heart sank, and I felt a lump forming in my throat. The truth hit me like a freight train. The laughs, the shared moments – they were all part of his final wish. He paid me not for a fake friendship but for a genuine connection in his last days.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged him tightly. “W-why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” I whispered, feeling a mixture of anger, sadness, and regret.

He smiled weakly. “I wanted it to be real. I wanted to feel alive, even if it was just for a week.”

The remaining days turned bittersweet as we navigated through the heartbreak of an inevitable farewell. The world suddenly felt too real, and the taste of our shared laughter turned into a bitter reminder of the limited time we had.

In the end, he left with a grateful smile, and I was left with memories of a friendship that felt genuine, even if it had started with a desperate plea and a pocketful of cash.