1 Chloe Kensington and I met while working a part-time job in college. It was at a small coffee shop right next to campus. I noticed her the moment I walked in. She wore a simple white button-down shirt. With her delicate, striking features and pale skin, she looked exactly like the quintessential hardworking, low-income college girl you’d read about in a romance novel. We slowly got to know each other, exchanged numbers, and started hitting the library and working our shifts together. Thanks to Chloe’s stunning looks, everyone on campus soon knew about the beautiful, struggling girl at the local coffee shop. Guys lined up endlessly to ask for her number. At first, she handled it well, but when it got too annoying, she eventually shoved me into the spotlight and claimed I was her boyfriend. I was caught completely off guard. Just as I was about to deny it, I saw the pleading look in Chloe’s dark eyes. Like I was under a spell, I swallowed my correction and silently played along with her lie. Eventually, it naturally transitioned into reality. She confessed her feelings, and we went from fake dating to a real couple. After graduation, we immediately rented a small apartment and moved in together. She told me she was an orphan. I grew up deep in the Appalachian Mountains, raised in poverty, which made me value every dollar. The cost of living in the city was high, and as fresh graduates, our labor was cheaper than anything else. On our days off, Chloe and I would pick up extra side gigs to earn some cash, slowly adding bricks to the little savings fund we were building for our future wedding. So, when I landed a temporary catering gig that paid two hundred dollars an hour, I was thrilled for days. But when I walked into the banquet hall and saw Chloe—who was supposed to be working mandatory overtime at her corporate job—my joyful expression instantly froze. 2 Chloe, who was always so frugal and plain around me, had completely transformed. She was wearing a stunning, strapless red designer gown. The bangs that usually hid her brow were styled elegantly pushed back. She looked absolutely breathtaking. If it weren't for that familiar face, I might not have even recognized her. The trust-fund kids at the banquet were practically tripping over themselves to shower her with attention. She looked down at their fawning faces with the cold indifference of a goddess. Seeing me frozen in place, Ben, a guy working the gig with me, nudged my shoulder. He looked concerned and asked what was wrong. I shook my head. Staring at Chloe, who was surrounded like a star, a bitter taste filled my mouth. "Who is she?" I asked. Ben glanced over and lowered his voice. "Rumor has it she's the princess of the Kensington family—old money elites!" Looking at this utterly foreign version of Chloe, an indescribable cocktail of emotions surged in my chest. The girlfriend I had lived with day and night for four years had, in the blink of an eye, morphed from a pitiful orphan into a high-society heiress. I instinctively pulled out my phone and shot her a text. Chloe was sitting lazily on a velvet sofa, surrounded by a crowd, when her phone buzzed. Everyone looked at her and teased, "Ooh, who is it, Miss Kensington?" Chloe picked up her phone, gave the screen a token, uncaring glance, and casually dismissed it. "Nothing. Just spam." Hearing those words, I felt like I had been plunged into an ice bath. My entire body trembled. So, in Chloe Kensington’s eyes, I, Noah Sterling, was nothing more than disposable spam. It made sense. We had been together for four years, and I didn't even know her real identity. A sudden wave of pathetic self-pity washed over me. All my hard work and sacrifices felt like a complete joke. I stood in the shadows, silently watching the roaring, glamorous crowd. Sitting right next to Chloe was a handsome man in a tailored suit. They were openly flirting, completely ignoring everyone else around them. They had the effortless chemistry of a deeply in-love couple. Ben rolled out the massive, five-tier custom cake that the kitchen had spent five hours preparing. It was covered in fresh fruit, and the sickeningly sweet smell of frosting wafted across the room. The guests began presenting their gifts to the man. Chloe went last. With a grand wave of her hand, she had staff bring out 999 red roses. The man looked incredibly moved and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. While the rich kids cheered and whistled, I stood there in my goofy, oversized uniform, clumsily holding a tray, watching them. My eyes felt dry, but I couldn't cry. I couldn't even find the words to describe what I was feeling. Looking at Chloe Kensington, I felt like I was truly seeing her for the first time. 3 On our first Valentine's Day together, we were walking down the street when I saw a vendor selling roses. I wanted to buy her a bouquet. When I held the flowers out to her, I thought she would be happy. She wasn't. Chloe just frowned, a look of distinct disgust crossing her face. What was it she said back then? "Roses don't symbolize love. It's just corporate marketing brainwashing women to spend money." "It's so tacky. Who even gives roses these days?" Seeing her reluctance to accept the flowers, I joked, "Tacky? I don't think so! If my baby bought me flowers, I’d cherish them forever! Even when they dried up, I’d still think they were beautiful!" She furrowed her brow and scoffed, "Who would ever buy you roses? Keep dreaming." Before I could even feel hurt, Chloe plucked a long blade of grass from the park lawn and wove it into a crude, makeshift ring for me. I was so incredibly moved at the time, even feeling guilty for my superficial desire for roses. Now, watching the scene unfold before me, I just felt ridiculous. She never actually thought giving roses was tacky. She just didn't want to give them to me. 4 The party was lively and loud, but none of it belonged to me. I just watched them quietly until the event ended, collected my paycheck, and left. By the time I got back to our apartment, it was past midnight. Chloe wasn't home yet. I collapsed onto the couch, utterly exhausted. Today was my birthday, too. I had originally planned to finish the gig and use the extra cash to buy myself a small cake and a present. But the walk home had been a blurry, numb haze. I didn't stop anywhere. I just walked straight home. I looked at the furniture and the layout of our apartment. We had built this life piece by piece over the years we lived together. We even made a promise that once we saved enough, we would put a down payment on a place exactly like this. That was why I worked so relentlessly to save money. Even though it was my birthday, the moment I saw a gig paying two hundred dollars an hour, I took it without hesitation. And a good thing, too. What if I hadn't gone? If I hadn't gone, I wouldn't have seen the truth. Would I have just lived a lie forever? I sat hugging my knees on the couch for God knows how long until I heard the turn of the lock. Chloe was back. She had taken off the luxurious designer gown and changed back into her worn-out, cheap clothes. She had morphed straight from the dazzling high-society princess back into a struggling, ordinary office worker. I looked at her without saying a word. Chloe walked over and immediately tried to wrap her arms around me. I shrugged out of her embrace. Noting the slight fatigue on her face, I asked, "Why didn't you text me back?" Chloe's expression stiffened for a fraction of a second before returning to normal. "I'm so sorry, baby, I didn't even see it. You have no idea how crazy it was at the office tonight, they dumped so much overtime on me." She looked so genuinely exhausted and wronged. If I hadn't seen her being worshipped like royalty at that banquet with my own eyes, her acting would have completely fooled me. "Do you even remember what today is?" My voice came out hoarse. "Today is my birthday." A small, pathetic part of me had hoped her excuse about overtime was real, that maybe she was going to surprise me. We had been together for four years. The first three, she spent every birthday with me. Now, it seemed she simply forgot. Or maybe she was just bored of me. She forgot the birthday of her actual boyfriend, ran off to celebrate another man's birthday, and casually dropped money on 999 roses—something she had never once given me. My nose stung. I wanted to cry, but I forced the tears back down. Chloe had clearly forgotten. She frowned, quickly apologized, and promised she would make it up to me with a gift tomorrow. I didn't respond. She assumed I was just throwing a tantrum about the lack of a present, offered a few half-hearted words of comfort, and went to bed. I sat there, neither yelling nor fighting, just watching her sleep. I had traced the lines of her face thousands of times in my mind, but right now, she looked like a total stranger. We had fought before. We had even broken up briefly over heated arguments. But this time was different. Chloe Kensington, this time, I am truly done with you. 5 I handed in my resignation at work. Without telling Chloe, I booked a one-way ticket to Seattle. As I left, I looked out at the city skyline. It was a city that held all the dreams I had built since meeting Chloe. I had been young and naive, foolishly believing I could spend the rest of my life with her, desperately hoping we could carve out a little home of our own in this massive metropolis. But from the very beginning, it was a dream I was having all by myself. Now, I was awake. I grabbed my suitcase and boarded the train. Sitting in my seat, I stared at Chloe's profile picture. Driven by some final, phantom impulse, I sent her one last message. Then, I blocked her on every single platform. [Chloe, the game of playing poor stops here.] 6 Real life isn't a movie. No one throws their life away and wallows in misery for years over a failed relationship, myself included. Time moves forward. I gathered myself, updated my resume, and started looking for a new job. Since I was no longer a fresh grad, and the market was saturated with college degrees, my bachelor's didn't give me much of an edge. It was a grueling cycle: send resumes, interview, send more resumes, interview again. Thankfully, during the years I was with Chloe, my obsession with saving for our future meant I had a decent safety net. Being temporarily unemployed didn't push me into poverty. The relentless exhaustion of job hunting left me with zero free time to dwell on Chloe. Soon enough, I landed a position at a solid company and truly settled down. My life became a simple, peaceful straight line between the office and my apartment. I foolishly believed the world was vast enough that, having moved across the country, my path and Chloe's would never cross again. But fate apparently had a twisted sense of humor. Because while I was presenting a project report, I saw Chloe again. And she was sitting directly in the chair of our newly appointed department manager. I hadn't seen her in months. She had shed her "poor girl" disguise and returned to her true form as the Kensington princess. She was wearing a custom-tailored power suit, looking exactly as untouchable as she did the night of the banquet. Of course. The struggling girl named Chloe never actually existed. I looked at the newly parachuted manager, pretended I didn't know her, and professionally handed her my files. Just as I turned to walk out of her office, a hand grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. I looked down at the hand. Chloe. She yanked me back into the office.
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