The city air was crisp as Michaelis stepped out of his car—his real car, the luxury one he never let her see. Tonight, he had a date. Not with his girlfriend, no, but with the girl he’d been spoiling behind her back. He glanced at the expensive bracelet wrapped around the girl’s wrist, the same amount of money his "girlfriend" probably spent on feeding him for a month.

He adjusted his worn-out hoodie—the disguise he had perfected over two years of pretending to be a struggling student drowning in debt. A stupid dare, that’s how it started. "Act broke for a week and see if people still like you." That was the game. But then she came along—his real girlfriend—treating him like someone worth helping, worth loving, even when she barely had enough for herself.

And he let her.

He let her work those endless shifts. He let her slip cash into his pockets. He let her skip meals so he could eat. All while spending thousands on another girl who didn’t even matter to him.

A small tug on his sleeve brought him back.

“Michaelis, let’s get rice cakes,” the girl beside him whined.

Rice cakes. Right. He rolled his eyes but walked forward, reaching into his pocket for cash, only to freeze when his gaze locked onto the vendor behind the stall.

His throat dried up.

She was standing there. His girlfriend. The one who’d been working overtime, losing sleep, taking on every job she could to support him.

And here he was, about to throw her money at some other girl, acting like it was his own.

Silence stretched. The girl beside him frowned, tugging on his sleeve again.

“What’s wrong?”

Michaelis didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.