My boyfriend, Jonathan Davis, who I had been in love with for five years, had stomach cancer.

In order to pay for Jonathan's treatment, I sold the house my mother left me and worked three jobs on my own.

I heard Jonathan talking to someone about me while I was working part-time job at the bar. “Vivian is just a toy for me when I'm bored, and I give her hope and push her into the abyss. Isn't that fun?”

I didn't cry, complain, or rush in to ask him, and I packed my things and took a plane back to my hometown.

I was told that Jonathan, the young master in Hampton, who cried and searched the whole of Hampton afterwards, could not find me.

The second before I pushed open the door to the private room, I was still secretly delighted that I would get a tip of several hundred dollars for this order.

As a result, I was suddenly stunned when I saw Jonathan surrounded by several rich men in the center of the booth.

At that moment, Jonathan was dressed in a suit and exuded an innate nobility.

He was nothing like the poor boyfriend who was pestering me to sleep with me before.

I looked over uncertainly several times as I heard the coquettish giggle of the flirtatious woman lying in his arms.

“Mr. Davis, haven't you had enough of Cinderella falling in love with Prince Charming?”

“What is so special about Vivian that is worth all the years you've spent playing such a boring game?” The woman's tone sounded flirty and filled with disdain.

Jonathan didn't answer, his eyes hiding a faint smile. He lifted the woman's chin with his hand and lowered his head for a kiss.

It was unexpectedly quiet in the private room, making the kiss seem extra charming, gentle and ambiguous.

The woman's panting was even more like a tidal wave into my ears, and a tingling sensation like a dense pinprick of needles surged through my heart.

“Mr. Davis, someone's watching us. Why don't you come over to my place tonight? Play however you want.”

The desire in Jonathan's eyes disappeared. He cupped the woman's face and teased, “That's the biggest difference between you and her. She's well-behaved, unlike a woman as flirtatious as you, who can't survive without a man.”

Instead of feeling offended, the woman laughed with joy.

“Hey, you can't talk about me like that.”

I felt upset and hurriedly looked down, swallowing the loss that surged up.

At this moment, I was finally sure that the person in front of me was none other than Jonathan, my boyfriend who had been with me for five years.

Three months ago, Jonathan cried and asked to break up with me because he didn't want to drag me down with him.

“Vivian, why don't we break up? I don't want to drag you down.”

At that moment, I felt very dizzy. Before I could say anything, my tears were falling uncontrollably.

“Why do you want to break up with me? Did something happen to you?”

I grabbed Jonathan's arm tightly and looked up at him incredulously.

It wasn't until he took out the stomach cancer diagnosis, and I saw that it clearly said mid-stage stomach cancer, that my world seemed to collapse for a moment, and I cried.

“How could this happen?”

Jonathan didn't say anything and hugged me tightly. I subconsciously tried to look up when I felt tears on my neck.

“Don't look at it. Vivian, I don't want you to see me so embarrassed, and I don't want to drag you down with me. I'll move out tomorrow, and I want to hug you gently before I die...” His voice was trembling slightly, full of helplessness and despair.

I was so angry that my eyes filled with tears, slapped him harshly on the back, and said in a choked voice, “Don't talk nonsense. You're not going to die, and I'll be there for you. You'll be fine.”

With that, we fell into silence.

Jonathan's surgery would cost upwards of half a million dollars.

It would be an astronomical figure for me, an average writer who made three thousand dollars a month.

I couldn't get that much money unless I sold my liver or kidneys.

After a while, Jonathan let go of me in frustration, his voice low and raspy.

“I'm fine, and I just think that I won't be with you anymore. I feel heartbroken. Vivian, the only one I'm worried about is you...”

Looking at Jonathan's distressed expression, I forced a smile and gently reassured, “It's okay, and I'll figure it out.”

As we went back to the house, I checked my account balance and found that I had borrowed less than five thousand dollars.

I sat quietly on the bed, staring at the property certificate in my hand in a daze.

It was the only thing my parents left me that could be exchanged for money.

I was worried about my boyfriend, who I had been in love with for five years, and the old house my mother had left me.

This put me in a struggle.

That night, I curled up in bed, clutched the property license tightly, burst into tears, and kept blaming myself.

“I'm sorry, Mom and Dad, I'm useless.”

Jonathan rescued me from the mire when I was at my most desperate. Now that he was in trouble, I couldn't leave him behind.

The next day, I sold my mother's house and moved into a rental house with Jonathan.

But the money I got from selling my house was nowhere near enough to pay for Jonathan's treatment.

The pemigatinib tablets would cost forty thousand dollars alone. With all the consulting fees, it was a bottomless pit.

For this reason, I gave up writing and worked three jobs.

I got up early and came home late every day, and I was so exhausted that I was about to pass out. All I wanted was to make a few extra dollars and save up for Jonathan's surgery sooner.

Jonathan went to the hospital alone every time secretly so that I could get some rest after work.

At that time, I just hated that I was incapable of alleviating Jonathan's pain instead.

Now, I felt like a clown, a buffoon to be played with by anyone.

Jonathan wouldn't let me accompany him to the hospital just because he was afraid of revealing himself.

From everyone's compliments, it wasn't hard for me to guess that Jonathan's identity was either rich or noble.

It was obviously well-heated in the private room, but I felt extremely cold, and my entire body shivered as if I had fallen into a freezing cellar.

“The girl with the mask, you're pretty blind. Why don't you hurry up and offer Mr. Davis a drink? You're such a piece of trash, and you deserve to work for someone for the rest of your life.”

After I came back to my senses from the memories, I poured the drinks for these rich guys nervously.

As I passed Jonathan, smelling his familiar scent, I was momentarily distracted and accidentally spilled my drink on him.

The woman beside him immediately got up and angrily pushed me to the ground, pointing at my nose and cursing me.

“Are you blind? Mr. Davis is wearing a shirt that is worth half your life.”

Was it worth half my life?

I braced myself in panic and wiped Jonathan's wine stains with a tissue on the side.

I was slapped brutally by the woman, who contemptuously poured wine all over my head.

“Don't you see what you look like? You're ugly and out of shape, and you're not even comparable to those whores. Are you still trying to seduce Mr. Davis?”

Everyone laughed, and I was so embarrassed that I wanted to find a place to hide.

The purple wine slid down my cheek, blurring my vision.

I saw the man in the center of the booth seem to smile happily and softly.

I was someone who had a strong preference for sound, so I loved the way Jonathan sat on the balcony holding a guitar and sang love songs to me.

At this moment, however, the familiar sound of laughter was particularly jarring.

I was about to carry the tray out the door when I heard Jonathan's cold voice ring out.

“Stop. You messed with me, but you want to leave, right? Will I agree to that? If you finish this drink, this will be over.”

Saying that, Jonathan pushed a glass of wine with an alcohol concentration of 45% in front of me.

The bright color of the wine was like poison in my eyes.

I stood still and never took the glass of wine.