The Prince Pretends to Be Poor for Love

Three months ago, Jonathan cried and asked to break up with me because he didn't want to drag me down with him.

“Vivian, why don't we break up? I don't want to drag you down.”

At that moment, I felt very dizzy. Before I could say anything, my tears were falling uncontrollably.

“Why do you want to break up with me? Did something happen to you?”

I grabbed Jonathan's arm tightly and looked up at him incredulously.

It wasn't until he took out the stomach cancer diagnosis, and I saw that it clearly said mid-stage stomach cancer, that my world seemed to collapse for a moment, and I cried.

“How could this happen?”

Jonathan didn't say anything and hugged me tightly. I subconsciously tried to look up when I felt tears on my neck.

“Don't look at it. Vivian, I don't want you to see me so embarrassed, and I don't want to drag you down with me. I'll move out tomorrow, and I want to hug you gently before I die...” His voice was trembling slightly, full of helplessness and despair.

I was so angry that my eyes filled with tears, slapped him harshly on the back, and said in a choked voice, “Don't talk nonsense. You're not going to die, and I'll be there for you. You'll be fine.”

With that, we fell into silence.

Jonathan's surgery would cost upwards of half a million dollars.

It would be an astronomical figure for me, an average writer who made three thousand dollars a month.

I couldn't get that much money unless I sold my liver or kidneys.

After a while, Jonathan let go of me in frustration, his voice low and raspy.

“I'm fine, and I just think that I won't be with you anymore. I feel heartbroken. Vivian, the only one I'm worried about is you...”

Looking at Jonathan's distressed expression, I forced a smile and gently reassured, “It's okay, and I'll figure it out.”

As we went back to the house, I checked my account balance and found that I had borrowed less than five thousand dollars.

I sat quietly on the bed, staring at the property certificate in my hand in a daze.

It was the only thing my parents left me that could be exchanged for money.

I was worried about my boyfriend, who I had been in love with for five years, and the old house my mother had left me.

This put me in a struggle.

That night, I curled up in bed, clutched the property license tightly, burst into tears, and kept blaming myself.

“I'm sorry, Mom and Dad, I'm useless.”

Jonathan rescued me from the mire when I was at my most desperate. Now that he was in trouble, I couldn't leave him behind.

The next day, I sold my mother's house and moved into a rental house with Jonathan.

But the money I got from selling my house was nowhere near enough to pay for Jonathan's treatment.

The pemigatinib tablets would cost forty thousand dollars alone. With all the consulting fees, it was a bottomless pit.

For this reason, I gave up writing and worked three jobs.

I got up early and came home late every day, and I was so exhausted that I was about to pass out. All I wanted was to make a few extra dollars and save up for Jonathan's surgery sooner.