My fiancé was involved in a car accident and fell into a coma, racking up medical bills that reached staggering heights. Yet, I couldn't abandon him. I juggled five jobs, working tirelessly day and night, sleeping less than three hours a day. Those three years pushed me to the brink more times than I can count.

One day, as I lugged a coffee machine up more than twenty flights of stairs for delivery to a tech firm's office, I saw him—my supposed fiancé, who I thought was confined to a luxury hospital room—dressed smartly in a suit, confidently leading a meeting. When his eyes met my exhausted gaze, he visibly panicked and hurried to explain, "It was Angel's idea to test your true feelings..."

"Well, you’ve made your point. I don't love you anymore."

While I dragged the machine up to the 24th floor, gasping for air, my fiancé, Jensen King, appeared from around a corner, looking polished and at ease. I bumped into him, feeling as though I'd plunged into ice-cold water. My body started to tremble uncontrollably.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, stunned.

Jensen's eyes swept over me, a fleeting look of shock before he regained his poise. "You look terrible. What are you wearing?" His voice dripped with disdain.

Instinctively, I glanced at my reflection: sweaty, tangled hair, worn-out clothes, and hands rough from endless labor. "I'm sorry," I apologized reflexively, as if I were dealing with a difficult customer, though I'd done nothing wrong.

Jensen pinched his nose in disgust. "What’s that smell? It’s revolting. Can you move away?"

I stepped back. After three years apart, his first reaction wasn't one of explanation or joy, but revulsion. I felt my blood run cold.

It took a moment to gather myself and ask, "Jensen, weren't you supposed to be in the hospital? How..." He interrupted me.

"I was discharged a long time ago."

"When? How did I not know?"

Jensen looked at me boldly, his response unapologetic, "If I hadn't pretended to be in a coma, how could I have truly known your feelings for me?"

My mind went blank as I collapsed onto the floor. So, that was it.

Three years ago, Jensen had a car accident and fell into a coma—or so I thought. Orphaned and without any support, I was just a fresh graduate back then, penniless. Yet, I shouldered the burden of his astronomical medical expenses. I wanted to save him, regardless of the cost.

For those three years, I took any job I could find, juggling five positions, sleeping just three hours a night. By day, I hauled bricks on construction sites, and at night, I worked at a diner. On weekends, I had side gigs as a tutor, server, and coffee delivery driver. I endured hardships I never imagined possible.

My hands grew thick with calluses and showed signs of frostbite. I even broke my left leg at a construction site. I dared not claim compensation for fear of losing my job. I couldn't afford the hospital, so I had it set at a small clinic. To this day, it aches terribly when it rains.

Countless times, I felt close to collapse. But thoughts of Jensen kept me going. I did it all to save him. I was even willing to trade my life for his.

But now, reality had slapped me hard in the face. Jensen had never been in a coma. He had woken up early on and led a comfortable life while I endured three years of needless suffering. Is there anything more absurd?

I looked at his handsome face, and tears began to flow uncontrollably. Jensen frowned, observing me without offering a hand. "Stop crying. I have a meeting to attend. Clean yourself up," he said coldly and entered the meeting room.

Through the thick glass, I heard people inside showering him with praise—calling him a financial prodigy, young yet accomplished. Beside him stood Angel Henderson, the campus beauty who'd been chasing after him since our school days.

Jensen's life seemed unaffected by whether I was there or not. Everything I did was a one-sided act.

"Jensen King, you've deceived me bitterly," I murmured as I stood outside the building until the last rays of the sun disappeared from the city skyline. The biting cold wind lashed my skin, rendering my face numb, yet I stubbornly waited. I needed answers from Jensen.

Finally, a luxury car pulled up beside me. Jensen rolled down the window and said coolly, "Get in."

I didn't budge.

He sneered, "Don't you want answers?" His tone made it sound as if I was the one in the wrong.

Slowly, I opened the car door, only to find Angel sitting cozily beside him.

Angel waved, "Long time no see, Stella~"

Jensen smiled, "She's my assistant now." The warmth of the car thawed the numbness on my face, but my heart remained icy.

"So, what do you want to ask?" he prodded.

His tone suggested I was at fault. I had so many questions, but now, facing him, my throat felt parched.

"Why did you lie to me?" I asked quietly, staring blankly out the window.

Jensen and Angel exchanged a glance, and Angel spoke first. "After the accident, I saw you at the diner every day. Who knew if you were looking for rich clients?"

Jensen chuckled, "Angel makes a point. I needed to see if you were genuine."

I managed a bitter smile. Back then, I only went to the diner to earn money for his medical bills.

"So, did you find out if my feelings were genuine?" I rasped.

Unfazed, Jensen replied, "Eventually, I realized you were just working. But that alone doesn't prove much."

I couldn't help but laugh softly. As I laughed, tears flooded out.

For three years, I did every menial job to cover his medical expenses. And in return, all I got was his dismissive "it doesn't mean much."

I remembered when I first started working at the diner, a customer demanded I sell myself. When I refused, he beat me severely, leaving me hospitalized for half a month. While lying there, unable to move, my only worry was how to pay Jensen's medical bills without my income.

When that customer offered a large settlement, he sneered, "Why pretend to have dignity? Isn't it money you want?" He tossed the money at me. I wanted to scream, "I don't want it," but I couldn't—for Jensen was still in the hospital. So, I took the money, humiliated, and wept the entire night.

That night, I discarded all my pride and anger for Jensen's sake.

Yet, he had already woken up and watched me suffer in silence, all for his so-called "test." Did he truly love me?

If that counted as love, it was far too much for me to bear.

After Angel left the car to head home, Jensen drove me back to his place. The plush carpet beneath my feet was a stark contrast to the shoebox apartment I'd been living in—a place so cramped, it felt like a coffin. I lived there, scrimping and saving, sometimes eating only instant noodles, even on my birthday. All my money went to Jensen's treatments.

Jensen watched me, smirking, "You shouldn't feel too bad. Trading three years for such a good life isn't a bad deal."

Mechanically, I took off my shoes and stepped onto the carpet. The softness made me instinctively recoil. Jensen picked up my shoes, holding his nose, and tossed them into the trash outside. "They're filthy. I'll buy you new ones, any brand you like."

At that moment, it felt as if he had discarded me too. I bowed my head, tears dripping onto my feet. Whether it was sorrow or regret, the emotions crawled up from my feet and spread through every vein. I felt utterly drained, my eyes growing redder.

Finally, I sat on the floor, crying like a child. I wept for the three years of deception, for realizing my fiancé was this kind of person. Jensen's expression finally softened. He crouched down to wipe my tears, sighed, and was about to speak when his phone rang. He answered it, unconcerned.

Angel's sugary voice came through, "Hey Jensen, I've twisted my ankle. Could you take me to the hospital?"

Jensen hesitated before replying, "I might not..."

"Ah—" Angel's voice trailed off with a sound of distress.

Jensen panicked. "I'm coming right away! Don't move!"

He grabbed his coat, ready to leave. I looked up at him, my eyes likely filled with bitterness. He frowned, "Don't look at me like that. Angel is my assistant. If something happens to her, it complicates my schedule. If I'd wanted anything with her, I’d have done it back in college. Why wait till now?"

"If you truly cared for me, you wouldn't care about any of this."

Three years ago, you weren't this close to her. How can I trust you now? The more he explained, the guiltier he seemed.

"Jensen..." I started softly.

"I'm heading out. We'll talk when—"

"Stella?"

I was just returning from the grocery store, stepping into the apartment complex when I heard someone call my name from behind. I turned around, my expression freezing in place. It was Angel.

The image of her wrapped in Jensen's arms, with a disdainful smile on her face, replayed in my mind over and over again. I thought I had let all that go, that after these months it no longer mattered. But seeing her now, I realized that wasn’t true. I hadn't moved on; I had merely hidden the scars for a while.

My whole body went rigid, an inexplicable coldness seeping into my limbs. Angel approached me, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Stella, it really is you!”

Even the loud, bustling sounds of the street couldn't drown out the sharp click of her heels on the pavement. It took me what felt like ages to find my voice again.

“Angel. What are you doing here?”

I hadn't noticed how hoarse and raw my voice sounded until I spoke. She beamed at me, her smile insistent as she closed the distance between us. "I'm on a business trip. And you? Still working in real estate?"

My heart skipped a beat. How did she know? At the time, sales was the only job that required no credentials but offered a chance to earn substantial money. Though the job was grueling and sometimes required me to put on a brave face for clients, Jensen’s medical bills were astronomical. In comparison, if it meant he could wake up, the hardship seemed insignificant.

Yet, I hadn't been in the job long before getting fired due to an "incident." I thought it was because I wasn't good enough and regretted it for a long time. I looked up at Angel's ever-present smile and felt a sting—a smile more like a mockery of me. Instinctively, I asked, "Have you been checking up on me?"

She flicked her hair back, laughing. “I don’t have the resources for that. Jensen’s been the one keeping tabs on you.”

My eyes widened in shock. He had known all along how hard I was working?! Yet he never showed his face.

I felt something inside me break—my heart splintering into countless fragments.

“But you know…” Angel drawled slowly, “it was actually my suggestion to Jensen that he shouldn't intervene.”

I stared at her, wide-eyed.

She scoffed, "Why are you so surprised? Did you really think Jensen loved you?"

“Someone like you, without looks or brains, isn’t a match for him.”

"I don't mind telling you now, your previous sales job was a little trap I suggested to Jensen."

“Do you remember Mr. Smith?”

Her words hit me like a bolt from the blue, sending shockwaves through me. Mr. Smith was my boss in real estate sales. At the time, as a rookie, closing a deal was no walk in the park. To win clients over, I would wake up before dawn to buy breakfast and wait at their doorsteps. I’d help care for their elderly, clean bathrooms, and even pick up their kids from school.

Yet, just as I was about to close a deal, Mr. Smith stole the client from me and claimed the hefty commission, leaving me to watch in disbelief. Not only that, but he started stalking me. One night, he attacked me from behind, and if it weren’t for a passerby, my life would have been ruined.

Worse still, I didn’t even have the luxury of time to press charges. I needed to work and save up for medical bills, and a lawsuit would drain me of money and time I couldn't afford to lose. He offered me a sum for a private settlement, and I had no choice but to accept it quietly.

The next day at the morning meeting, he told everyone that the client chose him over me and that I had falsely accused him of harassment out of spite, forcing him to pay me off. The conversation where I accepted the money was his irrefutable evidence.

I not only lost my job but was detained because of it.

When I was released, I felt like I had lost everything. Returning to my rented apartment, I found my belongings tossed in the trash by my landlord, the door tightly locked. I stared blankly at the chaos, feeling like the unluckiest person in the world.

That day, I stood with one foot over the edge of the rooftop. Then, the call came from the hospital—a doctor telling me Jensen had shown signs of improvement, that his eyelids had fluttered. They said not to give up, that there was still hope.

That call saved me that day.

But it was all a lie. Mr. Smith was part of their game. How could Jensen watch as I was humiliated and driven to despair?

Perhaps, just like this, he held Angel as they laughed at my foolishness. Would he have felt even a twinge of regret for what he did to me? No, he wouldn’t. Had he cared even a little, he wouldn’t have let me fall that far.

Even that hospital call was just a cruel game, like toying with a dog. I was nothing more than a pawn to him and Angel. The thought brought a bitter laugh to my lips, tears streaming down, tasting so bitter.

Jensen, you made my life so bitter. If you didn’t love me, why couldn’t you just let me go? Why torture me like this?

"Ahhhh—!"

The empty street echoed with the sound of my despairing sobs.

Angel's dismissive gaze swept over me.

"You're out of your mind."

Anger ignited in me, and I slapped her hard across the face.

She held her cheek in disbelief. "Stella, have you completely lost it?"

I remained silent, seized her hair, and struck her again.

Angel's face quickly turned red and swollen, her eyes wide with fear. She staggered back, panic all over her features. "What are you doing? Stella, we're in public!"

I sauntered forward, casually adjusting my hair. Is she scared now? Too late!

Angel spun around in a panic, only to bump into someone approaching.

The moment she realized who it was, her voice faltered. "Jensen..."

Her rescuer had arrived.

I sneered disdainfully.

Jensen moved past her, frowning slightly as he looked at me. "Stella, what's going on here?"

Before I could respond, Angel shrieked her version of events. "We just happened to bump into each other on a business trip, I wanted to catch up, but she attacked me out of nowhere!"

"Jensen, look at my face, it hurts so badly."

He gently touched her bruised, swollen face, concern clear in his eyes.

Watching them together was like salt in a wound.

If he’s fallen for someone else, why keep up this charade with me?

I was too drained to argue with them any further.

Every word felt like poison.

I turned to leave, but Jensen caught my wrist.

"Isn't that enough?" he barked. "You've hit her, you've yelled, what more do you want? You didn’t use to be like this!"

His tone made it seem like I was the one out of control.

But clearly, he was the one who’d driven me to desperation.

He’d taken everything from me, left me empty.

I had nothing left.

And now, even my last shred of dignity was being crushed by him.

My heart twisted in agony.

I struggled to suppress the pain, barely managing to speak through clenched teeth.

"Jensen, you make me nauseous. Please, don't ever show your face in front of me again."

His expression twisted in anger.

He cornered me against the wall, his voice menacing.

"Say that again!"

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I snapped, "Just seeing you makes me sick. Just leave me alone, alright?"

Jensen cursed, "What the hell did I even do wrong? Was it wrong to test you?!"

"Yes, I admit you've suffered these past years, but everything I own is yours now!"

"My entire fortune is worth more than the past three years, isn't it?!"

"I said I'd make it up to you, and I will. Do we have to keep fighting like this?!"

Seeing the fire in my eyes, his tone softened.

"Let's stop arguing, okay? Whatever you want, I'll agree to it."

I looked at his arrogant, detached face.

After a long pause, I whispered.

"Leave."