He Faked Poverty, I Dumped Him & Returned

Olivia let out a delighted laugh. "But you actually used the money from selling those figure drawings of her to buy me a bag. How are you going to explain that when you get home?" "That painting only sold for a few bucks, it can't even buy you these bags." Just as they were about to step into the car, Olivia spotted me. "Hey, there's actually someone lying over there. Should we go check?" I turned over with whatever strength I had left, clinging to the last shred of my dignity. From behind me came a man's indifferent voice. "Be good. Don't engage with that kind of poor person. It'll only bring trouble." So that's what I was to him. The troublesome poor person. Someone to avoid. Not until the car had driven off did I finally release my teeth from my lip, which I'd been biting to keep myself from making a sound. In the end, it was a passerby who found me, helped cool me down, and pulled me back from real danger. I dragged my frail body along the road, running wildly, doubting myself most of all. Jacob should be at the studio I rented for him, teaching students how to paint. If I could just see him there, just catch a glimpse, then none of it was real. I would consider that he hadn't betrayed me. When love blinds you, you'll abandon every shred of reason just to excuse the one who broke you. He'd come to me with a tragic story. To be with him, I'd hidden my own identity, and when my parents finally found out, I cut ties with my family for his sake. Three years I'd spent with him. Those were hard years, but happy ones. At least, that's what I told myself. I once felt content with that hard life, grateful even, because I had love beside me. But the life I thought was happiness was nothing more than his performance piece. A calculated deception. I didn't know if he ever loved me at all. The scene I had just witnessed had driven a blade straight through my heart. I didn't know how many times I stumbled along the way. I couldn't feel the pain anymore. All I wanted was an answer. But when I pushed open the studio door with the last ember of hope left in me, reality threw a bucket of ice water in my face. I stood there staring at what was inside, trembling uncontrollably.