Betrayal by My Fiancé

My fiancé was involved in a car accident and fell into a coma, racking up medical bills that reached staggering heights. Yet, I couldn't abandon him. I juggled five jobs, working tirelessly day and night, sleeping less than three hours a day. Those three years pushed me to the brink more times than I can count.

One day, as I lugged a coffee machine up more than twenty flights of stairs for delivery to a tech firm's office, I saw him—my supposed fiancé, who I thought was confined to a luxury hospital room—dressed smartly in a suit, confidently leading a meeting. When his eyes met my exhausted gaze, he visibly panicked and hurried to explain, "It was Angel's idea to test your true feelings..."

"Well, you’ve made your point. I don't love you anymore."

While I dragged the machine up to the 24th floor, gasping for air, my fiancé, Jensen King, appeared from around a corner, looking polished and at ease. I bumped into him, feeling as though I'd plunged into ice-cold water. My body started to tremble uncontrollably.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, stunned.

Jensen's eyes swept over me, a fleeting look of shock before he regained his poise. "You look terrible. What are you wearing?" His voice dripped with disdain.

Instinctively, I glanced at my reflection: sweaty, tangled hair, worn-out clothes, and hands rough from endless labor. "I'm sorry," I apologized reflexively, as if I were dealing with a difficult customer, though I'd done nothing wrong.

Jensen pinched his nose in disgust. "What’s that smell? It’s revolting. Can you move away?"

I stepped back. After three years apart, his first reaction wasn't one of explanation or joy, but revulsion. I felt my blood run cold.

It took a moment to gather myself and ask, "Jensen, weren't you supposed to be in the hospital? How..." He interrupted me.

"I was discharged a long time ago."

"When? How did I not know?"

Jensen looked at me boldly, his response unapologetic, "If I hadn't pretended to be in a coma, how could I have truly known your feelings for me?"

My mind went blank as I collapsed onto the floor. So, that was it.

Three years ago, Jensen had a car accident and fell into a coma—or so I thought. Orphaned and without any support, I was just a fresh graduate back then, penniless. Yet, I shouldered the burden of his astronomical medical expenses. I wanted to save him, regardless of the cost.

For those three years, I took any job I could find, juggling five positions, sleeping just three hours a night. By day, I hauled bricks on construction sites, and at night, I worked at a diner. On weekends, I had side gigs as a tutor, server, and coffee delivery driver. I endured hardships I never imagined possible.

My hands grew thick with calluses and showed signs of frostbite. I even broke my left leg at a construction site. I dared not claim compensation for fear of losing my job. I couldn't afford the hospital, so I had it set at a small clinic. To this day, it aches terribly when it rains.

Countless times, I felt close to collapse. But thoughts of Jensen kept me going. I did it all to save him. I was even willing to trade my life for his.

But now, reality had slapped me hard in the face. Jensen had never been in a coma. He had woken up early on and led a comfortable life while I endured three years of needless suffering. Is there anything more absurd?

I looked at his handsome face, and tears began to flow uncontrollably. Jensen frowned, observing me without offering a hand. "Stop crying. I have a meeting to attend. Clean yourself up," he said coldly and entered the meeting room.

Through the thick glass, I heard people inside showering him with praise—calling him a financial prodigy, young yet accomplished. Beside him stood Angel Henderson, the campus beauty who'd been chasing after him since our school days.

Jensen's life seemed unaffected by whether I was there or not. Everything I did was a one-sided act.

"Jensen King, you've deceived me bitterly," I murmured as I stood outside the building until the last rays of the sun disappeared from the city skyline. The biting cold wind lashed my skin, rendering my face numb, yet I stubbornly waited. I needed answers from Jensen.

Finally, a luxury car pulled up beside me. Jensen rolled down the window and said coolly, "Get in."

I didn't budge.

He sneered, "Don't you want answers?" His tone made it sound as if I was the one in the wrong.

Slowly, I opened the car door, only to find Angel sitting cozily beside him.

Angel waved, "Long time no see, Stella~"

Jensen smiled, "She's my assistant now." The warmth of the car thawed the numbness on my face, but my heart remained icy.

"So, what do you want to ask?" he prodded.

His tone suggested I was at fault. I had so many questions, but now, facing him, my throat felt parched.

"Why did you lie to me?" I asked quietly, staring blankly out the window.

Jensen and Angel exchanged a glance, and Angel spoke first. "After the accident, I saw you at the diner every day. Who knew if you were looking for rich clients?"

Jensen chuckled, "Angel makes a point. I needed to see if you were genuine."

I managed a bitter smile. Back then, I only went to the diner to earn money for his medical bills.

"So, did you find out if my feelings were genuine?" I rasped.

Unfazed, Jensen replied, "Eventually, I realized you were just working. But that alone doesn't prove much."

I couldn't help but laugh softly. As I laughed, tears flooded out.

For three years, I did every menial job to cover his medical expenses. And in return, all I got was his dismissive "it doesn't mean much."

I remembered when I first started working at the diner, a customer demanded I sell myself. When I refused, he beat me severely, leaving me hospitalized for half a month. While lying there, unable to move, my only worry was how to pay Jensen's medical bills without my income.

When that customer offered a large settlement, he sneered, "Why pretend to have dignity? Isn't it money you want?" He tossed the money at me. I wanted to scream, "I don't want it," but I couldn't—for Jensen was still in the hospital. So, I took the money, humiliated, and wept the entire night.

That night, I discarded all my pride and anger for Jensen's sake.

Yet, he had already woken up and watched me suffer in silence, all for his so-called "test." Did he truly love me?

If that counted as love, it was far too much for me to bear.

After Angel left the car to head home, Jensen drove me back to his place. The plush carpet beneath my feet was a stark contrast to the shoebox apartment I'd been living in—a place so cramped, it felt like a coffin. I lived there, scrimping and saving, sometimes eating only instant noodles, even on my birthday. All my money went to Jensen's treatments.

Jensen watched me, smirking, "You shouldn't feel too bad. Trading three years for such a good life isn't a bad deal."

Mechanically, I took off my shoes and stepped onto the carpet. The softness made me instinctively recoil. Jensen picked up my shoes, holding his nose, and tossed them into the trash outside. "They're filthy. I'll buy you new ones, any brand you like."

At that moment, it felt as if he had discarded me too. I bowed my head, tears dripping onto my feet. Whether it was sorrow or regret, the emotions crawled up from my feet and spread through every vein. I felt utterly drained, my eyes growing redder.

Finally, I sat on the floor, crying like a child. I wept for the three years of deception, for realizing my fiancé was this kind of person. Jensen's expression finally softened. He crouched down to wipe my tears, sighed, and was about to speak when his phone rang. He answered it, unconcerned.

Angel's sugary voice came through, "Hey Jensen, I've twisted my ankle. Could you take me to the hospital?"

Jensen hesitated before replying, "I might not..."

"Ah—" Angel's voice trailed off with a sound of distress.

Jensen panicked. "I'm coming right away! Don't move!"

He grabbed his coat, ready to leave. I looked up at him, my eyes likely filled with bitterness. He frowned, "Don't look at me like that. Angel is my assistant. If something happens to her, it complicates my schedule. If I'd wanted anything with her, I’d have done it back in college. Why wait till now?"

"If you truly cared for me, you wouldn't care about any of this."

Three years ago, you weren't this close to her. How can I trust you now? The more he explained, the guiltier he seemed.

"Jensen..." I started softly.

"I'm heading out. We'll talk when—"