"Yesterday I wandered into one of those cash-spraying livestreams," I said. "I scraped together enough. We can go back to our hometown together."

The light from my phone cut across his face. His brows knit, and a flicker of irritation flashed in his eyes.

He had not expected me to pull it off.

That morning, I had sent him every cent I had to repay his debt. By his calculation, I should have had nothing left except the 42 dollars he handed me that night, the steel-bar money.

The irritation faded almost at once. He pulled me into his arms and pressed his cheek to my neck.

"That's great," he murmured. "We can go home together again. Via, thank you."

He still did not tell the truth.

I locked the screen, and darkness swallowed the bedroom.

His fingers found the tear mole beneath my eye and brushed it slowly, absently, like someone stroking an obedient animal.

…

The day before New Year's Eve, I took leave from work. I did not tell him.

Anya complained online that she was sick of being cooped up in the villa. To placate her, her sponsor planned to take her shopping.

When I reached the mall, a Maybach pulled up at the entrance.

The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.

Benjamin emerged. He no longer wore the faded gray work uniform. A tailored cashmere coat fell over a suit cut in clean, understated lines.

That morning, he had complained as usual about hauling steel bars.

I never would have imagined that my broke boyfriend was the only son of the Southall family, a well-known real estate tycoon in the capital, Goldstine City.

I was still dazed when he walked around the car and opened the other door himself.

Anya threw herself into his arms.

"You're not afraid your girlfriend will see us?" she asked, smiling up at him.

Benjamin lowered his head and bit her soft red lips in full view of everyone.

I stood behind a tree not far away and watched my boyfriend kiss another woman with hunger and familiarity.

He took his time before letting her go. Even then, he pecked her twice more.

"What's there to be afraid of?" he said. "She's working today. I watched her get on the bus myself."

"And if she sees us?" Anya teased.

"If she sees us…" Benjamin narrowed his eyes, careless. "Worst case, I give her back the little money she earned."

Anya laughed and clung to him as they walked into the mall.

I should have followed them. I should have grabbed his coat and demanded to know why he lied, why he betrayed me.

But in two days, something inside me had gone numb. My legs would not move.

I stood there and watched Anya post update after update.

[This Gallean restaurant is just okay. Not as good as the Gallean chef my sponsor hired for me.]

[Off to a beauty treatment! He wants me pretty for New Year's. He transferred another 200,000 dollars. I'll go live at ten tonight to throw cash for you guys!]

Someone commented and asked whether she feared the sponsor's girlfriend would catch her.

She replied at once, delighted. "I wish she would. My sponsor said if she finds out, he'll just return the money she earned over the years. What a loser. Five years, and she only made 130,000 dollars."

"130,000 dollars… So that's what I've earned in five years," I mumbled.

The number felt absurd. I tugged at the corner of my mouth, but no smile came.

…

Two hours later, Anya posted her daily spending summary.

"Your girl's daily income: 240,000 dollars."

I do not know how I made it back. When I came to myself, I sat on the sofa.

Benjamin had just walked in. He had changed back into the gray work uniform. He had deliberately mussed his hair.

"Via, you haven't eaten yet?" he asked.

He rolled up his sleeves. "I'll heat up the boxed meals from the fridge. It'll be ready in a minute."

His tone was the same as always, gentle and considerate.

At dinner, he pushed the meal with fried chicken strips toward me and ate the vegetarian one himself.

I held my utensils. Too many words clogged my chest.

I wanted to ask, "Why did you lie to me? Why did you claim to be from my hometown, a poor kid from a small county near Silverim City, buried under 200,000 dollars in debt?

"I followed you from freshman year to graduation. Then we moved to Goldstine City, together. I pinched pennies. I worked one full-time job and three part-time jobs. Every cent I earn goes to you.

"I wanted you to clear your debt sooner so we could marry without pressure.

"But the truth is that you're a wealthy heir from Goldstine City, someone who can burn through hundreds of thousands without blinking.

"You date me in the open while flaunting another woman behind my back."

"All these years, have you ever loved me? Or am I just a pet you keep for amusement?"

Across from me, he took two bites of his food and stopped. He tried to mask it, but disgust flickered between his brows.

I met his eyes. "Benjamin, how much does your family still owe?"

His hand froze, and his gaze drifted away. "My mom said it's probably a little over 180,000 dollars."

My expression did not change. "When we were freshmen, you told me it was 200,000 dollars. It's been five years. How is it still over 180,000 dollars?"

He seemed to recall the number he had given me back then. He set down his utensils and hurried over, crouching in front of me.

"I'm sorry, Via. I kept it from you. My dad got sick. My mom borrowed more money for his treatment. That's why the debt increased again." His voice trembled. "Are you mad at me? We just owe too much."

He continued apologizing as he gripped my wrist. This was the same hand that had swiped more than 200,000 dollars at the mall because another girl felt bored at the villa and needed cheering up.

I blinked and forced the tears back.

"I'm not mad," I said. "I just don't think we can go on like this. When we go home this time, let's arrange for our parents to meet. Let's get married. After we marry, we can repay the debt little by little."

His fingers trembled. His palm felt damp with sweat.

He looked at me directly.

I had loved him for five years, yet I could not read his eyes today. Was it irritation? Was it anger?

The seconds dragged as he composed himself.

"Okay," he said. "After we go home for New Year's, we'll talk about marriage. Olivia, I'll work hard. I'll pay off the debt. I won't let you suffer with me anymore."

He still sounded sincere. How many lies lay beneath that sincerity?

I turned my hand and squeezed his firmly. I nodded.

This was the last chance I was giving Benjamin.

…

Our train departed at 4:00 p.m. on New Year's Eve. We dragged our suitcases onto the bus bound for the station.

His phone kept lighting up along the way. With each message, his brows drew tighter.

I pretended not to notice. I turned slightly and opened Anya's page.

[That broke bitch dares to steal my sponsor? Shameless!]

[Just wait. Let's see who matters more to him, you or me!]

More messages appeared. He shifted in his seat.

When the bus stopped, he suddenly stood.

"Via, my friend got hurt at the construction site. I have to check on him. You go home first. Don't make your parents wait," he said.

I rose as well. "I'll come with you. An extra person could help."

"No." He reacted so sharply that he startled himself. Then he seemed to realize that I had not even tried to stop him.

Embarrassment crossed his face. The bus doors opened, and he stepped off without hesitation.

"You go home first," he said. "Stay safe."

He flagged down a taxi, which drove off in the opposite direction. The bus continued toward the train station.

I held the seatback and slowly sat down, staring ahead.

Anya had won. She mattered more.

Tears slid down my face. I lifted my phone and recorded a short clip of myself crying. Then I compiled every photo I had taken with Benjamin over the past five years into a single video.

"Five years with my boyfriend. I worked four jobs to help repay his debt, but his family's debt keeps growing instead of shrinking. Today we were supposed to go home together for New Year's. He said something happened at the construction site and left again. I don't know when the debt will ever be paid off. Living on toast and pickles every day is really hard."

When the train began to move, I hit "Post." I poured every cent I had taken from Anya's livestream into promoting the video.

"Benjamin, every lie is a debt. From today on, you can repay it inch by painful inch. I won't stay to watch," I muttered.