My boyfriend is a secret millionaire

 *MY BOYFRIEND IS A SECRET MILLIONAIRE*  A Novel by *Precious*  *Part 1: The Uber Driver in New York* My name is *Aisha Khan*. I’m 24. I sell vintage clothes on Depop and Etsy and I live in a studio apartment in *Brooklyn, New York* with my roommate Sofia. We split $2,400 rent and fight over the one bathroom.  I met my boyfriend driving Uber.  It was a rainy Thursday in November. I was late for my pop-up shop in *SoHo, Manhattan*. The L train was down. My last $40 was going to a Lyft but it cancelled twice.  Then this guy in a beat-up Honda Civic pulled up. Gray hoodie, cap pulled low, tired eyes.  “You need a ride? I’m doing Uber but the app is glitching. Cash only.”  “How much to SoHo?”  “$15. And I’ll help with your racks.”  I got in. He drove through the rain down the *FDR Drive*, music low.  When we got to *Prince Street*, I tried to pay.  “Keep it,” he said. “You looked stressed.”  “I’m Aisha.”  “*Arjun*.”  He showed up to my pop-up the next Saturday in *Williamsburg*. Bought a $20 vintage tee.  “Support small business,” he said and smiled.  After that he came to every pop-up. Sometimes with coffee from *Dunkin’*. Sometimes just to carry boxes from my storage in *Queens* to *Manhattan*.   After 2 months he asked me out. At a diner in *Astoria, Queens*. $18 for burgers and fries.  “I don’t have much right now,” he said. “Student loans, rent. But I like you.”  I said yes. Because he remembered I don’t eat beef. Because when my heater broke in January he drove 40 minutes from the *Bronx* at midnight with a space heater. Because he made me laugh.  For 8 months, Arjun was perfect. Broke, but perfect.  He drove Uber 10-12 hours a day. He rented a room in the *Bronx, NY* for $900. He said he was “saving to start a delivery company.”   I believed him.  *Part 2: The Airport Receipt at JFK* The problem started with a receipt.  It was our 8-month anniversary. I went to *Target in Downtown Brooklyn* and saw him.  Arjun. In a black suit. Getting into a black Escalade at *JFK Airport, Terminal 4, Queens, NY*. With a driver holding a sign that said _Mr. A. Patel_.  My stomach dropped.   For 4 days I didn’t text him.   On day 5 he came to my apartment with samosas.  “Aisha, talk to me. What’s wrong?”  I showed him the photo.  “Who is Mr. A. Patel, Arjun?”  He exhaled.  “Sit.”  We sat on my floor.  “I’m not an Uber driver,” he said.  “I know.”  “I’m not broke either.”  “My name is *Arjun Patel*. My dad owns Patel Global Logistics. Headquarters in *Houston, Texas*. 200 trucks. Warehouses in 6 states: *Texas, Florida, California, Illinois, Georgia, and New York*. We just signed a contract with Amazon.”  I stared at him. “...So why are you driving Uber in *New York City*?”  “Because I was sick of it,” he said. “Sick of people in *Los Angeles, California* and *Miami, Florida* who only talk to me because of my last name. Sick of girls who ask what building I live in. I came to *NYC* with $2,000 to see if I could make it on my own. To meet someone real.”  He looked scared. “Are you mad?”  I wanted to be.  “You lied to me for 8 months.”  “I didn’t lie about how I feel about you. Not once.”  I told him I needed space.  *Part 3: The Truth and The Test in Brooklyn* A week later he knocked on my door in *Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn*. No Escalade. Hoodie and jeans.  “I quit,” he said.  “Quit what?”  “The company. For 6 months. My dad and I made a deal. If I can build a business from zero, no money, no name, then I earn the CEO spot. If not, I go back to *Houston, Texas*.”  “So the Uber...”  “Was real. I’m on the app. 12-hour shifts. $200-$300 a day before gas and *NYC* tolls.”  He handed me a key.  “This is for a storefront. On *Bedford Avenue, Williamsburg, Brooklyn*. 1 year free rent. Open _Aisha Vintage_. The lease is in your name.”  “I can’t take that.”  “I want to build with you. Not buy you. With you.”  I cried in his arms.   I took the store.  The first 3 months were hard. Permits. Furniture from *f*******: Marketplace*. I hired 2 girls from *New Jersey*. Arjun still drove Uber from 5am to 2pm, then helped me stock shelves till 10pm.  In March, a t****k of our store blew up. 2 million views.   By June we were shipping to *California, Texas, Florida*. By August we hired 3 more people.  *Part 4: 1 Year Later - From NY to Texas* One year later, _Aisha Vintage_ has 3 employees. We do $80k a month. We ship nationwide. From *New York to California to Texas to Georgia*.  Arjun’s company is called _SwiftDrop_. Started in *NYC*, now has 60 drivers in *New Jersey, Connecticut, and Pennsylvania* too. He still drives Uber once a month “to stay humble.”  We moved in together. A 1-bedroom in *Long Island City, Queens, NY*. $3,200.   His dad flew in from *Houston, Texas* to meet me for dinner in *Manhattan*. He shook my hand. “So you’re the girl who made my son drive Uber in *New York*. Thank you.”  We spend Thanksgiving at their house in *Texas*. Big home. His mom makes biryani. His little sister calls me _didi_.  Do people talk? Of course.  “She’s a gold digger.”  “He’s doing this for PR.”  Let them.  Last month Arjun came home late from a trip to *Chicago, Illinois*. He dropped a folder on the counter.  “$2.8 million profit this quarter,” he said. “_SwiftDrop_ is expanding to *Phoenix, Arizona* next.”  Then he pulled me close. “You know what’s crazy? I have millions and warehouses in 6 states. But the best night of my life was that rainy night in *Brooklyn* when you gave me $15 and a thank you.”  He got down on one knee. In our kitchen in *Queens*.  “Marry me, Aisha Khan.”  I said yes.  We’re planning a small wedding. Backyard in *Jersey City, New Jersey*. 80 people. My family is flying in from *Chicago, Illinois*. His family from *Texas*.  And he’s picking me up in that same Honda Civic he drove around *New York City*.  Because that’s how we started.   And that’s how I’ll always see him.   Not as Arjun Patel, heir to a logistics empire in *Houston, Texas*.  Not as the secret millionaire.  But as the guy who chose to be broke with me in *New York* before he chose to be rich with me. Like * + * +