Working Off a Fake Debt

"All these years, have you ever loved me? Or am I just a pet you keep for amusement?"

Across from me, he took two bites of his food and stopped. He tried to mask it, but disgust flickered between his brows.

I met his eyes. "Benjamin, how much does your family still owe?"

His hand froze, and his gaze drifted away. "My mom said it's probably a little over 180,000 dollars."

My expression did not change. "When we were freshmen, you told me it was 200,000 dollars. It's been five years. How is it still over 180,000 dollars?"

He seemed to recall the number he had given me back then. He set down his utensils and hurried over, crouching in front of me.

"I'm sorry, Via. I kept it from you. My dad got sick. My mom borrowed more money for his treatment. That's why the debt increased again." His voice trembled. "Are you mad at me? We just owe too much."

He continued apologizing as he gripped my wrist. This was the same hand that had swiped more than 200,000 dollars at the mall because another girl felt bored at the villa and needed cheering up.

I blinked and forced the tears back.

"I'm not mad," I said. "I just don't think we can go on like this. When we go home this time, let's arrange for our parents to meet. Let's get married. After we marry, we can repay the debt little by little."

His fingers trembled. His palm felt damp with sweat.

He looked at me directly.

I had loved him for five years, yet I could not read his eyes today. Was it irritation? Was it anger?

The seconds dragged as he composed himself.

"Okay," he said. "After we go home for New Year's, we'll talk about marriage. Olivia, I'll work hard. I'll pay off the debt. I won't let you suffer with me anymore."

He still sounded sincere. How many lies lay beneath that sincerity?

I turned my hand and squeezed his firmly. I nodded.

This was the last chance I was giving Benjamin.

…

Our train departed at 4:00 p.m. on New Year's Eve. We dragged our suitcases onto the bus bound for the station.

His phone kept lighting up along the way. With each message, his brows drew tighter.

I pretended not to notice. I turned slightly and opened Anya's page.

[That broke bitch dares to steal my sponsor? Shameless!]

[Just wait. Let's see who matters more to him, you or me!]

More messages appeared. He shifted in his seat.

When the bus stopped, he suddenly stood.

"Via, my friend got hurt at the construction site. I have to check on him. You go home first. Don't make your parents wait," he said.

I rose as well. "I'll come with you. An extra person could help."

"No." He reacted so sharply that he startled himself. Then he seemed to realize that I had not even tried to stop him.

Embarrassment crossed his face. The bus doors opened, and he stepped off without hesitation.

"You go home first," he said. "Stay safe."

He flagged down a taxi, which drove off in the opposite direction. The bus continued toward the train station.

I held the seatback and slowly sat down, staring ahead.

Anya had won. She mattered more.

Tears slid down my face. I lifted my phone and recorded a short clip of myself crying. Then I compiled every photo I had taken with Benjamin over the past five years into a single video.

"Five years with my boyfriend. I worked four jobs to help repay his debt, but his family's debt keeps growing instead of shrinking. Today we were supposed to go home together for New Year's. He said something happened at the construction site and left again. I don't know when the debt will ever be paid off. Living on toast and pickles every day is really hard."

When the train began to move, I hit "Post." I poured every cent I had taken from Anya's livestream into promoting the video.

"Benjamin, every lie is a debt. From today on, you can repay it inch by painful inch. I won't stay to watch," I muttered.