Back in high school, flush with my family's cash, I kind of "sponsored" this poor genius kid. Ethan Hayes. I remember him back then, fists clenched white, defiant but helpless against the situation. Then my family went bankrupt. To salvage the last shred of my pride, I dumped him flat. Fast forward a few years. I was juggling part-time gigs trying to pay off mountains of debt. He became a tech mogul, worth millions. Someone asked him once if there was anyone he couldn't forget. He just leaned back, all lazy confidence, and said, "Not really." But then, when I was about to marry someone else just to clear my debts, he suddenly seemed to have second thoughts. 01 I never expected to see Ethan Hayes again like this. There he was, sharp suit and all, standing right in front of my little food cart. Three years. It felt like a lifetime. Jessica Bell stood beside him, looking perfect in a white sundress. They shared a black umbrella against the sun, looking annoyingly picture-perfect. My hands trembled as I tried to make a breakfast burrito. I pulled the brim of my cap down lower, praying he wouldn't recognize my face. "Easy on the hot sauce," Ethan's voice came from above me. My hand froze mid-scoop. The tongs loosened, and the jalapeños tumbled back into the container. I love spicy food. He doesn’t. Back when we were together, I always used to push him to try it. He never fought me on it, just grimaced and swallowed. Back then, I thought I was melting his defenses, that he was willing to change for me, accommodate me. Later events proved I’d just been fooling myself. Jessica clung to his side, her perfectly made-up face wrinkled in disgust. "Ethan, honey, if you're craving a burrito, I can have our chef whip one up. You don't need to buy this… street food." Ethan didn't say anything, just watched my hands work. Those few minutes felt like an eternity under a spotlight. Only when I finally slid the wrapped burrito into a paper bag and handed it to him did I dare to look up. "That'll be twelve bucks for the Supreme Deluxe." I tried to keep my voice low and gravelly, thanking God for the face mask I was wearing. Hopefully, he wouldn't place my voice. But Jessica peered at me, then hooked her arm through Ethan’s possessively. "You know, Ethan," she said sweetly, "the more I look at her, the more she reminds me of Ava Miller. You haven't forgotten her, have you?" My heart leaped into my throat. Even bundled up like this, she could tell? Ethan didn't respond to her directly. He took the burrito and tapped his phone to pay. Jessica wouldn't let it go, her voice dripping with faux concern. "I just worry about you, sweetie. After how she humiliated you, then dumped you… and now you're so successful. Wouldn't it be hilarious if she ended up selling food on some street corner?" Her words stung. I was about to tell them I was closing up, tell them to just leave. But then Jessica reached out, aiming for my hat. For a split second, I froze. Her hand came closer, inch by inch. Right in front of my face. Her fingers brushed the brim. One sharp tug, and my face would be exposed. "Hey! Can I get like, five breakfast burritos, loaded?" Saved by a customer. Thank God. The interruption stopped Jessica cold. Ethan gently pressed the back of her hand down. His voice was cool, detached. "Hardly unforgettable." They left. Jessica slid into the passenger seat of Ethan's sleek car. It pulled away, heading towards the gleaming office towers across the street. The old me would have thrown a fit. I never let anyone else sit in his passenger seat. But I didn't have that right anymore. Besides, back then, I was the one calling all the shots, forcing him into things. 02 I first met Ethan Hayes in senior year of high school. My parents, obsessed with my grades, pulled me out of my cushy private prep school and threw me into Northwood High, known for its killer college acceptance rate. Ethan and I ended up in the same class. Most kids prepping for the SATs looked drained and gray, but at least they were fed and clothed. Ethan, though… hot or cold, he always wore the same faded, almost translucent school sweatshirt and jeans. He stuck out. It was a level of hardship I couldn't comprehend. Me? If a t-shirt collar looked weird after washing, I tossed it. My winter coats barely saw a second season. But when he stood up, tall and lean, his eyes fixed on the blackboard with this intense hope… it got to me. When he recited poetry for English class, his voice was low and captivating. And after helping me finally crack a killer calculus problem, he’d flash this smile, dimples and all. Yeah, I was crushing hard. I heard from other kids that Ethan's situation was rough. Parents gone, just an elderly grandmother he lived with. I didn't grasp the reality of poverty back then. Not until Ethan missed a whole week of school. When I finally went to his house, I understood what an incredible feat it was for him to even be in high school. His grandmother, nearly blind, had fallen and broken her leg. The apartment had crumbling plaster walls and a leaky roof. It just screamed hardship, highlighting the kid’s quiet resilience. So, one morning, I cornered him outside his place. In my most commanding, rich-girl voice, I said: "Ethan Hayes, I think you're a responsible guy, and I kind of like you. Tutor me for the rest of senior year, I'll give you fifty thousand dollars. The day we graduate, we start dating. Deal?" He just stared at me like I was insane. "I'd help you study even if you didn't offer money, Ava." Then he just walked away. But my 'charitable spirit' wouldn't let me quit. I pursued him relentlessly. He only caved when his grandmother's eyesight completely failed, diagnosed with severe glaucoma. The medical bills were piling up. "Five thousand," he said, his voice tight. "I just need to borrow five thousand." I immediately transferred $20,000 into an account I set up for him. "What's mine is yours," I told him breezily. Besides the medical costs, there were caregiver fees, and college tuition was looming. I thought this would genuinely help him. His fists were clenched again, like he was steeling himself for something. I knew he dreamed of a bigger world, but he couldn't abandon his grandmother. So I insisted he apply to the same university as me. No long-distance relationships allowed. I moved his grandmother into a better apartment, hired a full-time caregiver. I genuinely thought I was doing him a favor. Only later did I realize I was just crushing his pride again and again with my money. In college, he worked himself to the bone – tutoring, odd jobs, anything to make cash. Until my birthday that year. He nervously pulled out a debit card. "There's five thousand in here," he mumbled. "To start paying you back." I was furious. I thought we were a team, beyond keeping score. And here he was, drawing lines between 'mine' and 'yours.' I threw the card back at him and stormed off. After that, the whispers started. People called him a "kept man," giving him knowing smirks. But it didn't faze him. He just kept working, kept studying. I chewed out the jerks spreading rumors. Then I confronted him, frustrated. "Why don't you defend yourself? Tell them you're my boyfriend!" He just gave me a faint, sad smile. It wasn't until my own family went bankrupt, until I was drowning in debt myself, that I finally understood. When life beats you down that hard, you don't have the energy to get worked up over petty gossip. My life had been carefree. I never worried about money. People always flattered me. I couldn't possibly have understood Ethan's reality back then. Senior year of college, my world collapsed. All the people who'd fawned over me suddenly turned cold. The whispers and laughter came from every direction. It was my first real taste of how cruel people could be. I had always held my head high in front of Ethan. I couldn't let him see me like this. It was the last shred of pride I had left. I called him, interrupting his internship, acting deliberately difficult. Then I coldly broke up with him. Ethan just stared at me, his eyes locked on mine. His voice, when it finally came, was barely a whisper on the wind. A soft "Okay." And just like that, four years ended. No fights, no 'why.' Just two flat words severing our entire youth. Watching him walk away, silhouetted against the light, I convinced myself he was happy. Relieved, even. Finally free. No debts owed, no ties binding him. We could go our separate ways. I cut off all contact, left town, bounced around the country, never staying anywhere long. It wasn't until a final piece of family business required me to come back that I returned, reluctantly, to this city. Ethan’s resilience and drive were incredible. Achieving what he had in just three years… he deserved it. And Jessica Bell – she’d left for a prestigious music conservatory overseas sophomore year to chase her dream. Now she was a renowned pianist. Seeing them together… yeah, they looked good. A sour knot formed in my stomach. Too many thoughts, too many regrets. After selling the last burrito to that customer, I started packing up my cart. And just when you think things can't get worse, the battery on my beat-up electric delivery scooter died. There's this steep hill on the way back to my place. No juice, no way up. I put my shoulder into it, straining with all my might, pushing the damn thing inch by painful inch. Suddenly, a hand appeared on the other side, pushing alongside me. "No one helping you out?" My heart seized. It was Ethan's voice. 03 My throat closed up. I just froze, stuck in my pushing stance. Ethan’s lips were pressed into a thin line. He didn't say anything else, just helped me push. "Why the food cart?" he asked casually, like we were just chatting about the weather. "Just picking up extra work. Make ends meet." "Seems tough, though. Out in the sun and all that." "You get used to it," I mumbled, my voice hoarse. By the time we reached the top of the hill, I was drenched in sweat, face dripping. But I didn't dare take off my hat or mask. I had no idea if, after three years, he could still recognize me. They were my shields, my pathetic cover. "Right," he said lightly. "Me, I could never let my girlfriend work this hard. She just has to pout a little, and I'd give her anything." So, they were that close, huh? My throat felt dry. I just nodded slowly. "So, where's your boyfriend?" he pressed. "Why isn't he here helping?" "I can manage on my own." "Thanks for the help." I swung onto the scooter seat, ready to make a break for it. Ethan actually let out a short, frustrated laugh. His long arm reached over, plucked the key right out of the ignition. "Where do you think you're going this time?" "My runaway princess, Ava Miller." His voice had an edge now, his face darkening. He pulled me back towards him. Like a storm cloud gathering, barely holding back the fury. "Graduated college and vanished. Cut off everyone, even moved out of your family home." "You really know how to play games, Ava." He bit off each word, making my scalp tingle. I dropped my gaze, feeling the warmth drain from my body. My voice trembled. "You… you must know. My family went bankrupt. House, cars, everything gone to pay debts. Still owe a fortune." I forced myself to meet his eyes, trying not to look completely pathetic. "So you just ran? Disappeared for three whole years." "Ava, did you think I wasn't good enough to face this with you?" "Or was it your pride? Couldn't stand showing weakness in front of me?" I shook my head mechanically. "I just..." Before I could finish, a sleek Maybach whispered past us. The window rolled down, revealing Jessica's perfect face. "Ethan! What are you doing way out here?" "Oh! You found Ava! See, I told you I recognized her." I stood there awkwardly, feeling completely out of place. The three of us – a stark contrast. Me, sweaty and grubby; them, effortlessly glamorous. "So, where have you been keeping yourself?" Jessica asked, dripping fake sweetness. "Lost touch with all your old classmates." "Traveling around the country," I mumbled. "I see," Jessica said, her eyes sweeping over me, taking in my oil-stained apron. "But what's going on now? Selling… street food? We all graduated from State U, Ava. Ending up like this… it's a bit embarrassing, don't you think?" She giggled, covering her mouth. I looked down at myself. Yeah, the apron was gross. Her question was designed to strip away my last bit of dignity. But three years of scraping by had numbed me. "There's no shame in earning an honest living," I said flatly. Jessica nodded, feigning sympathy. "Are you in some kind of trouble? We're old friends, let me help you out." She held out a business card. "That's my number. Text me your bank details, I'll send you ten thousand dollars." I didn't take it. Just stared at her. She added, looking at Ethan with adoration, "Ethan and I are getting married soon. You should come cater our engagement party with your… burritos. For old times' sake." I followed her gaze to Ethan. His composed expression cracked, just for a second. "Well, congratulations," I managed, forcing a smile. "Funny, I have some good news coming up myself." 04 The burrito cart was just my side hustle. During normal work hours, I had an actual office job. My team lead rushed in, flustered, handing out assignments. "Okay people, listen up! This is a huge potential client. We cannot screw this up." "The game company they founded? Every release is a blockbuster. This partnership has to happen." After the lead left, my coworkers started buzzing. "I heard the CEO personally developed their flagship game three years ago. Something about unlocking territories all over the world to finally rescue the person he loves." "Yeah, the rumor is the whole concept was inspired by his ex-girlfriend. The final level is supposed to be a message he wants to tell her." "Aww, still hung up on his ex? That's kind of sweet, actually. I stan a loyal rich guy." A horrible feeling started creeping up my spine. No way. It couldn't be that much of a coincidence. "Has anyone actually beaten it? Gotten to the last level?" "Nope. Highest score on the leaderboard is stuck on the second-to-last stage. Nobody's ever finished it." "Man, who's the girl who has this billionaire boss so whipped?" "..." I tried to shake off the unease and went downstairs with my colleagues to greet the 'big client.' My boss was practically bowing, walking beside Ethan Hayes, showering him with compliments about our company. Ethan frowned slightly. "Your company's scale might be a bit… small for our needs. I'll need to think about it." My boss's forehead broke out in sweat. Then Ethan's eyes scanned the crowd and landed squarely on me. His tone shifted immediately. "Ava Miller?" Every head snapped in my direction. "Ava? You know Mr. Hayes?" my boss asked, surprised. I hesitated, then said cautiously, "We went to the same university." Ethan let out a cold little laugh. "Oh? Just university mates?" I recognized that expression. He was annoyed. Why? What did I say wrong? Suddenly, he turned back to my boss. "Mr. Davison, perhaps we can discuss this partnership further. But I want her to be the project lead." My boss, seeing a lifeline, practically tripped over himself agreeing. Didn't even ask me. Ethan seemed pleased with that reaction. The two of them disappeared into an office for ages. I watched the clock. Almost quitting time. I clocked out and turned to leave. And walked straight into a solid chest. "Where do you think you're going?" Ethan again. "It's quitting time." "Our project discussion isn't finished." "Well, I still have to leave on time. I've got things to do." "What's more important than work?" "The grocery store down the street has a big sale starting at 7 PM. There's a lot I need to get, and if I'm late, all the good stuff will be gone." Ethan just stared at me, genuine surprise in his eyes. 05 I used to buy things without ever looking at the price tag. It was all about mood. When Ethan and I went shopping back then, I’d grab anything I liked, swipe my card without a second thought. We’d often stagger home loaded with bags. A single shirt I bought casually probably cost more than his entire wardrobe for the year. And I never thought my 'generosity' could be a burden. Until one time I went to find him at his off-campus place. It was this tiny basement room, not even a proper bed. Taped to the wall were flyers listing discount days at nearby grocery stores. On his little table, the bottled water, the fruit – all bought during sales. A bag of rice, a jug of oil – marked with the purchase date and how long they should last. He looked so mortified when I showed up. I couldn't believe it. "Ethan, stuff on sale like that… it can't be good quality! You shouldn't be using this." He looked incredibly awkward, mumbling defensively, "It's edible. It works. It's fine." Exasperated, I dragged him to the biggest department store. Bought him a small bed frame, mattress, tons of groceries, toiletries. When we were picking out bedding, I told him to lie down, test it out. He just stood there rigidly, clutching the hem of his shirt, brushing off imaginary dust before daring to approach the display bed. I didn't understand his discomfort then. Now, I got it. That feeling of helpless inadequacy. Today, by the time I got to the grocery store sale, I was already late. I tried to elbow my way through the crowd, but I was no match for the speed and determination of the seasoned bargain hunters – mostly senior citizens. I started to panic. The roof in my rented room leaked when it rained. My mattress was soaked. All I wanted, desperately, was to buy a cheap comforter so I could sleep on the floor tonight. The harder I pushed forward, the more the crowd shoved me back. Someone jostled me hard, and I stumbled, falling to the floor. A heavy foot landed squarely on the back of my hand. Suddenly, Ethan was there, appearing out of nowhere, pulling me up. I quickly hid my swelling hand inside my sleeve, trying to rejoin the fray. He muttered something under his breath, then grabbed my arm firmly. His eyes looked a little red at the corners, his voice rough. "Come on." "Do you have to buy it here?" I just nodded mutely. ... Later, at the checkout, Ethan pulled out a sleek black credit card. The cashier looked utterly baffled. Rich people fighting over discount bedding?
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