---- Chapter 5 My hands trembled, and the small bag of notebooks | was holding for the orphanage children slipped from my grasp. The plastic tore, and the notebooks scattered across the polished marble floor with a loud clatter. The sound made them turn. Liam' s smile froze on his face. His eyes widened in panic when he saw me standing there, amidst the fallen items. Tiffany, however, just raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a slow, malicious smile spreading across her lips. She looked me up and down, taking in my cheap jeans and worn-out coat, and then looked at the scattered notebooks. "Well, well, look what we have here," she said, her voice loud enough for everyone around to hear. "If it isn't Liam's little charity project." Liam took a step towards me, his face a mask of desperation. "Sarah, this isn't what it looks like. Tiffany is... she's my boss's daughter. ---- | had to accompany her on a shopping trip. It's part of my job." The lie was so clumsy, so insulting in its transparency, that | almost laughed. Boss's daughter? After I'd heard everything? After I'd seen the black card? Tiffany let out a tinkling, cruel laugh. "Oh, darling, don't bother. The game's over. Can't you see she knows?" She looped her arm through his, pulling him back to her side. "Yes, I'm his 'boss's daughter.' And today's task was to buy me whatever | want. You understand, don't you, Sarah? He has to do what | say." The humiliation was a physical thing, a hot flush that spread up my neck. ---- People were starting to stare, whispering. | didn't look at them. | didn't look at Liam's panicked face or Tiffany's triumphant one. | simply bent down and started picking up the notebooks, my movements stiff and robotic. "| understand," | said to the floor, my voice flat. "You two go on. | can handle this myself." He had no idea what a small role he played in my life. He had no idea | had already decided to leave. They watched me for a moment, then Tiffany tugged on Liam's arm "Let's go, Liam. Don't waste your time on this." He hesitated, but she pulled again, and he let himself be led away, leaving me there on my knees, picking up the pieces. Somehow, | got through the rest of the day. | delivered the gifts to the orphanage, forcing a smile for the ---- children. Their innocent laughter was a balm, but also a painful contrast to the ugliness | had just experienced. Mrs. Gable, the director who had been a mother to me, pulled me aside. She held the scarf | gave her, her eyes warm with gratitude. "Sarah, dear, | heard about your boyfriend's illness," she said, her voice soft with sympathy. "You are such a good, kind girl to stand by him. He's a lucky man. From what you've told me, he seems like a good man, someone worthy of you." Her words, meant to be a comfort, felt like a thousand tiny cuts. A good man. Worthy of me. The irony was so bitter it choked me. | had painted a picture of a perfect, loving relationship for her, for everyone. A relationship built on shared hardship and deep love. ---- | had given a part of my body for that lie. | had carved myself up for a ghost | managed a weak smile. "Yes, he's... he's a good man." Later that night, alone in the apartment that no longer felt like mine, the full weight of it all came crashing down. It wasn't just the lie. It was the casual, dismissive cruelty of it all. They hadn' t just deceived me; they had disdained me. My poverty, my earnestness, my love-it was all a source of amusement for them. My most genuine feelings, the very core of who | was, had been turned into a punchline. My heart, which | thought had frozen over, now felt like it was shattering. The pieces were sharp and agonizing, a raw, bleeding mess inside my chest. | had offered my whole, sincere heart to him on a platter, and he and his friends had laughed as they trampled all over it.