Chapter 2

Just as I was savoring my food, Vivian suddenly walked over. She gracefully pulled an ATM card from her handbag and gently placed it on the table in front of me.

"Take this money; I just want to help you out for old times' sake. You should take better care of yourself—get a proper job, buy some new clothes, and learn to love yourself," she said.

Vivian's tone carried a hint of condescending pity as she added, "Henry, the past is the past. Stop dwelling on old memories."

She paused, and an inscrutable emotion flickered in her eyes. Then she asked, like she was hesitant to bring up an unspeakable past, "If it weren't for you... Forget it; none of it matters now.

"What matters is this—don't let my leaving drag you down or make you give up on your own life. Promise me, okay?"

Her voice was gentle, but there was still a commanding edge to it.

Full of puzzlement, I looked straight up into Vivian's eyes. The words she left hanging filled me with curiosity—what in the world had I done in our previous lives that she would abandon me without a second thought after our return to the past?

Back then, we started from high school romance to marriage.

Vivian longed to be a famous jewelry designer, hoping her unique creations could spread love and beauty to the world. As for me, I was determined to become an inspiring teacher, reaching out to children in underprivileged communities and helping transform their futures through knowledge.

Chasing these dreams wasn't easy—they demanded endless time, effort, and, of course, money.

In the face of reality, one of us had to make sacrifices.

Because my love for Vivian was so deep, I gave up on opportunities to further my own studies and build professional connections, throwing myself into work instead. With what little I earned, I tried to keep both of our dreams alive.

Vivian kept running into setbacks in her journey to become a jewelry designer. Each failure pulled her further into disappointment and frustration.

I was like a bottomless energy source to her. No matter how drained I was from work, I'd always drag myself home to comfort her, lifting her spirits and encouraging her to try again.

I thought she'd see how deep my love for her ran. But when she wanted to splurge on an expensive design tool and I had to turn her down because we just didn't have the money, she completely lost it.

Furious, Vivian tore her design drafts to shreds right in front of me. "If I'd listened to Eric and gone to Iugrea with him, I wouldn't be stuck living this poor life. I really regret being with you!"

Her words cut deep into my heart.

After that, Vivian seemed to lose all interest in jewelry design and walked away from her dream.

And what she said—"I really regret being with you"—kept coming back to me, hitting me hard in the dead of night and making me cry myself to sleep more times than I could count.

But I still tried one last time. On a quiet night, I gently wrapped my arms around her, my voice full of hope. "Vivian, how about we have a baby? What do you think?"

She pushed me away hard, her eyes filled with disgust. "How could we possibly have a baby when we're this broke? Besides, I've told you before—I hate kids. I don't want to have children with you, ever!"

Those words snuffed out the very last spark of hope inside me.

Later, our lives came to a sudden end in an accident. Strangely enough, I didn't feel scared—instead, I felt liberated.

Now that we both had a second chance in life, we'd made our choice to be estranged. Honestly, to me, there was no reason to hang on to the past anymore.

Without a word, I slid the ATM card back toward her, my voice steady and cool. "That's all right. I don't take things from strangers. Thanks, though."

Frowning, she questioned sharply, "Henry, am I a stranger to you? What's that supposed to mean?"

I replied, "I'm perfectly capable of buying my own clothes.

"No matter what I do for work, I'm proud of it—there's nothing shameful about it, and I don't think I'm giving up on my own life either. Why don't you give the money to someone who actually needs it?"

Vivian stood there, clutching the ATM card in her hand with her lips pressed tightly together.

Eric strolled up beside Vivian. The moment he caught sight of the card she was holding, he seemed to have gotten the picture.

Despite the visible fury in his eyes, he still pretended to look gentle. "Henry, since you don't want our help, let me offer you something more substantial.

"I just opened a new photography studio over on Colstrax Avenue. Just walk in, and I'll get you in as a photographer assistant. The pay isn't huge, but it's still around 1,700 dollars a month.

"What matters is that you can pick up some real skills. Who knows, even if you hit rock bottom, at least you could open your own studio down the line.

"So, wanna give it a try? I'm pretty sure it's a step up from whatever job you're stuck with now."

While eating, I calmly turned down their offer. "I appreciate it, but I love my job, and I'm not planning on switching anytime soon."

Some members of the charity organization started yelling at me. "Henry, what's wrong with you? Why are you so ungrateful? Vivian and Eric are giving you money and a job—just take it!"

"Come on, look at the state you're in—forget your ego. Aren't you here for those things when you showed up here in such a miserable state? Stop acting like you're above it all."

Eric feigned concern and chimed in, "Guys, ease up on Henry. Maybe he actually loves his job, you know?"

He turned back to me, plastering on that fake concern. "Henry, we're genuinely trying to help you here—and, honestly, it's because we've done charity together in the past. Don't let your ego make you miss out on a good opportunity."

I just couldn't wrap my head around why they were so insistent on pushing money and jobs my way. When it came to wealth, even their combined assets couldn't touch me.

"I really don't need it. Thanks," I said, keeping my tone cool.

Eric kept up that gentle smile, but his eyes were full of mockery and contempt.

Vivian clenched the card tightly, and a cold sneer formed on her face. "Henry, you really are a lost cause. Even if we tried to help, nothing's ever going to fix you. Just go and stay broke forever, see if I care!"

Right after that mockery, a swarm of women, whom I used to do charity work with, flocked around me.

One woman in particular tried to push drinks at me.

She offered, "Henry, I'm loaded. Since you're down and out, drink up, and I'll send you 300 dollars for every glass you finish.

"And if you really are miserable... I might even throw in some extra cash!"

Her gaze toward me was lecherous, which made the crowd snicker along. Not a single person stood up for me.

I frowned. This charity event was not what I'd imagined. If I weren't stuck here waiting for someone, I would've stormed out without a second thought.