He stepped in and grabbed my wrist—hard, like he wanted to crush it.

"Come with me."

"What are you doing?!" I struggled, but couldn't break free. "Everyone's watching—including your girlfriend. Say it here. No need for drama."

"Yeah, Philip, what's going on with you and Stella?"

Winnie looked at him, eyes full of hurt.

Philip glanced at her, hesitated—but didn't let go.

"Winnie, don't get the wrong idea. Stella and I just have something to sort out."

Philip dragged me outside.

"Stella, I know you can't handle me being with Winnie. You said you applied to a school in Borevia City just to get back at me. But being petty won't fix anything. My mom needs money now. If you care about me, lend it."

I didn't think he could be this shameless.

"We're classmates. What does your mom being sick have to do with me? Ask your relatives. Or your girlfriend. Why me? I don't have money."

Last time, at this exact dinner, Philip got drunk and said he'd drop out to pay for his mom Margaret's treatment.

But when I got him home, he broke down and asked for money.

I couldn't stand seeing him like that. I handed him my bank card.

Three years of prize money. Cash gifts from relatives for getting into college.

Almost twenty-five grand. Enough to cover a year of treatment.

He took it and pulled me into a hug, overwhelmed.

A few days later, he cried again—this time asking me to give up college.

"Stella, my mom's treatment costs money. We can't touch the savings. You'll have to work and pay my tuition. I swear I'll never betray you."

I was blinded. I hid it from my parents, tossed my acceptance letter, and worked three jobs to put him through school.

He got used to it.

So this time, when I said no, it threw him.

He stared at me, searching. "You came back too, didn't you?"

"Yes." I nodded, leaning in close. "Scared? You killed my child."

His hand snapped to my throat. His eyes went cold with hate.

"You bitch. So you came back too." His grip tightened. "Last time, you tore me and Winnie apart. If not for you, she wouldn't have died. You owe us. So this time, you're giving me the money."

I couldn't breathe. I swung and slapped him—hard.

"Let go!"

He loosened his grip. I shoved him back with a kick.

"If you and Winnie are so in love, have her pay for it. What—your girlfriend wouldn't say no, right?"

Philip froze, eyes flicking past me.

Winnie rushed over, throwing herself in front of him.

When she saw his swollen cheek, she broke. "Stella! That's too far! How could you hit him?"

"Perfect timing. Your future mother-in-law has cancer and no money for treatment—and your boyfriend's out here asking me for cash. Shameless."

Winnie stared at Philip, stunned.

His face went pale.

So he never told her about Margaret.

***

Later, I heard Winnie did exactly what I did last time—handed Philip all her savings and took a summer job at a boba shop for him.

Philip looked down on it.

He wanted to use what he knew from his past life to land a job at a big company.

But he'd just graduated high school. Too young. No real company hires summer kids or part-timers.

After hitting wall after wall, he ended up delivering food.

One day, Molly and I spotted Winnie behind the counter at a mall boba shop.

She stood there in uniform, a long line in front of her, exhaustion all over her face.

When she saw us, she dropped her gaze and avoided us.

Looking at her felt like looking at my past self—working three jobs for Philip.

I didn't want her making the same mistake.

I stepped closer, voice low. "Is it worth it? Doing all this for a guy? If he really loved you, would he let you suffer like this?"

Winnie stared at me, shocked. Her lips parted, but I turned and walked off.

That was all I was saying. What she did next wasn't my problem.

That night, I cut through a dark corner of my apartment complex garden. A figure stepped out, grabbed my shoulders, and slammed me against the wall.

"Stella! What did you say to Winnie?!"

I jumped in fright.

"Did you make fun of her? Ever since she saw you, she's been ignoring me!"

I rolled my eyes. "Or maybe she thinks you're a burden and doesn't want to work herself to death for you."

Philip snapped, worked up. "No way! Winnie and I are in love! I gave up Crestport for her. She'd never do that! It's just one job. Last time, you worked three—I never heard you complain."

So he knew.

He knew in my last life, I loved him to the point of breaking—worked three jobs, handed over every dollar.

I never complained. Not once.

Not when coworkers bullied me.

Not when my supervisor made my life hell.

Not when customers grabbed me or ran their mouths.

I never told him.

I always felt bad for him.

School. His mom's illness. Working to cover her bills—I thought he had it rough.

I never realized... that was his responsibility. Not mine.

I worked twelve-hour days. He never once felt bad for me.

And in the end, I still got the worst ending.

Philip dug his fingers into my shoulder. Pain shot through me, tears stinging my eyes.

He froze, then let go, face twisting with disgust. "Stella, even if you try to split me and Winnie up—even if you cry because I don't love you—I'll only love her this time. Since you won't lend me money, drop the jealousy and stay away. Otherwise, don't blame me for getting nasty."

I almost laughed. "Fine. Then stay away from me too. Stop bothering me—and don't ask me for money again."

He blinked, thrown by how fast I agreed.

Like he didn't buy it, he scoffed. "Relax. I'd never come to you anyway."

Then he turned and walked off.

Later, I heard he spent two days sweet-talking Winnie before they got back together.

Guess a young, naive girl like her couldn't resist so-called love.

***

Third-Person POV

Two months flew by.

Philip finally scraped together enough for his first semester and a couple months of living. He was riding high, thinking he'd made it without Stella, no dropout in sight.

Then Margaret crashed.

She got rushed to the ER, and just like that, his little victory died.

That's when it hit him. Last time, Stella's card had covered everything. Margaret stayed in the hospital the whole time—no emergencies, no panic.

This time?

Winnie had five grand. That was it.

She handed over all five grand.

Still not enough.

So Philip cut corners. Checked Margaret out early and dragged her home to "recover."

Yeah, that backfired.

She got worse.

He camped at the hospital for two days straight. When they finally rolled her out of the ICU, ventilator still hooked up, he let out a long breath.