Chapter 2

When I was totally strapped for cash, Martin sent me 3 thousand dollars without a second thought.

I sent him a bunch of thank-you texts and said I'd work hard to pay him back once I got back.

He just hit me back with a dog eye-roll meme.

I later learned that Martin was a senior one year ahead of me and famous on campus for being overly generous with his money.

When I finally paid him back the 3 thousand dollars I'd busted my ass to earn, he looked genuinely shocked.

He said, surprised, "I've been taken advantage of for years, and you're the first one to actually pay me back."

I just smiled and said quietly that pride was the only thing I could afford to keep.

After I met Martin, I realized that no matter where I worked part-time, he always seemed to show up.

He was the type to look out for people, and whenever he saw me, he'd help me get more sales.

One time, I was working at a bar, and some guy wouldn't leave me alone.

Martin happened to see it and ended up beating the guy into the hospital.

After that, he played the generous benefactor. He paid me 15 dollars to do his laundry, 30 dollars to bring him coffee, and one hundred dollars if I covered a class for him.

Soon enough, anything he didn't want to deal with just landed on me.

I was practically his personal assistant. Naturally, rumors about the two of us spread all over campus.

They said Martin had a thing for me, which was why he was always looking out for me.

After hearing it so many times, I almost believed it myself.

Then I overheard one of his buddies joking, "Are you really into that poor girl?"

Martin just brushed it off. "I don't mess with poor girls' feelings. I'm just being nice."

That was when I realized we had never been equals in his eyes. To him, I was no different from a stray on the street.

After that, I buried my feelings and stayed quietly in my place.

Thanks to Martin always having my back, I made it through three years of college safe and sound.

I watched as different girls cycled through his life, one after another.

Some were all smiles, some were shy and quiet.

However, before long, they'd vanish without a trace, like they were never even there.

I was the only one who never left.

In my senior year, my family was pressuring me to drop out of school and go on blind dates, just to push me toward getting married.

When my parents showed up at my dorm with that man, making a scene, it was Martin who stepped in and saved me.

He scoffed, "I'll give you a ton of money. Now get lost, and don't ever show up again."

Then he turned to my parents. "Your daughter is amazing. She deserves a better life, not to end up married to some bald old creep."

I had always thought Martin was just a childish rich idiot, but that day, I couldn't help falling for the warmth and kindness of the boy he still was.

Not long after, the Duncan family went bankrupt, and Martin fell from a pampered heir into someone everyone avoided and despised.

All his so-called friends bailed on him in a heartbeat, but I was the only one who stuck around, no matter how bad things got.

When he got beaten, I stood in front of him; when he couldn't even afford a meal, I lent him money; and when he was humiliated, I put myself on the line to defend him.

I stayed with him through starting over, repaying debts, and watched as he climbed step by step to become one of Nartias's rising elites.

Back then, I couldn't help wondering if I had finally grown a little closer to him.

Once Martin hit it big, he wanted to thank me for sticking by him. He handed me 10% of his company's shares and even set up a film and television studio just for me.

He shared all his resources and connections with me; honestly, nobody could ever be more generous than he was.

He openly told people I mattered most to him and treated me like I was precious.

Yet even so, there was never a place for me in his heart.

Through his actions, he made it clear that I could be his coworker or his buddy, but never his girlfriend.

After waking from the dream, I sat on my bed for a long time, only to realize it was barely three in the morning, the endless darkness pressing in as a sharp ache spread through my chest.

I clutched my chest and whispered through my tears, "Martin, it hurts so much."

Still, no matter how much it hurt, I had to let go.

Since I couldn't sleep, I checked flights home and picked a date at the start of next month.

I did the math. Half a month was plenty of time to wrap things up and hand everything over.

A few days later, my friends asked me out, and I automatically said no, but they wouldn't take no for an answer, saying, "Rosalyn, just come out and have fun."

These were all Martin's friends, and since I figured I'd never see them again, I finally agreed.

When I showed up, Martin was also there, holding a confetti cannon in his hand.

As soon as I walked in, confetti exploded everywhere, the music kicked in, and everyone yelled together, "Happy birthday."

Honestly, I felt a little touched, but just for a moment.

Then Martin said, "Sorry, I didn't celebrate your birthday earlier. I was with my girlfriend. Hope you don't mind."

It turned out he did remember my birthday, but it didn't really matter when it was celebrated.

I forced a smile, but a quiet pain rose up in my chest.

While I was zoning out, he fished a necklace out of his pocket and tossed it into my palm. "Here, your birthday gift."

It was the same bow-shaped necklace from before.

If he hadn't said, "My girlfriend thinks it's super tacky," maybe I would have liked it after all.

I looked at him, stone-faced. "I'm not a trash can for your unwanted stuff."

Martin's expression darkened. "Didn't you say it looked beautiful? I actually gave it to you, so what's wrong now?"

Seriously? I was upset that you threw your girlfriend's rejected gift at me and that you actually had a girlfriend.

The atmosphere grew awkward, and they all rushed to fill the silence. "Come on, Rosalyn, it's your birthday. Let's drink."

Honestly, I'd never really liked drinking.

The only reason I went to their drinks before was just to see Martin.

This time, I refused to compromise, so no matter what they said, I smiled and shook my head. "My stomach is acting up, so I'm out."

It wasn't a lie at all. Years ago, I'd drunk myself to a bleeding stomach for Martin.

Five years had passed, and my once-healed stomach had begun to ache again.