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.
Two months of grinding—gone in two days.
And the bills weren't done yet.
So Philip called Winnie.
She showed up with one of those hospital gift bags. He pointed at Margaret, out cold on the bed.
"Winnie, you see this. I need money. Now. Can you lend me some?"
Winnie hesitated. "I don't have anything left."
Philip's face dropped. "You made two grand in two months. You live at home, eat for free. Where'd it go?"
"I... I used it yesterday. Bought a new phone."
He snapped. Grabbed her shoulders hard enough to make her cry out. "You're my girlfriend. My mom's fighting for her life, and you're out buying a phone? Do you even care about me? About her?"
Winnie flinched, shoved him off, took a step back. "You're hurting me! My old phone was ancient, so I replaced it. And I already gave you all my savings. What else do you want?"
"My mom needs money now. Five grand isn't enough! You're my girlfriend—you should back me, no questions."
He clocked the fear on her face and dialed it down. "Hey... it's fine. Just go sell the phone and bring me the cash."
Winnie pressed her lips together, tears spilling. "I know you're stressed about your mom. I am too. But we're just dating—you don't get to control my money. Maybe... try something else? Borrow from family? Or... ask Stella. Didn't you say she has money?"
The second she said Stella, he lost it.
"How dare you bring her up? Do you know how much she did for me? How much she gave me? She was never this selfish."
Winnie hugged her phone tighter.
Yeah. That set him off all over again.
'This is the "true love" I threw my future away for? My mom's on the line and she won't even give up a phone?'
That did it. He lunged.
He had to get that phone.
"Winnie, if you just stand there and something happens to my mom, that's on you!"
They struggled—her crying, yelling—total chaos.
And he didn't notice he'd knocked the oxygen tube right out of his mom's nose...
