During a basketball game at Westfield, I accidentally broke the Cartier watch of Chelsea White, one of the most popular, wealthy girls at school. Tyler, my boyfriend, rushed over to her, carefully cradling her wrist as he scolded me, “Harper, can’t you be more careful? Can you even afford to replace this?” Just a Cartier? Please. I have a drawer full of Vacheron Constantins and Rolexes at home, yet I’ve never seen him worry over me like this. The Student Council organized a girls’ basketball game, and during the match, my elbow collided with something hard as I fought Chelsea for the ball. I didn’t think much of it—bumps and hits are just part of the game. But she screeched, “Stop! Harper, you broke my watch!” It’s just a watch. What’s she so worked up about? The game was intense, and we were close to winning. I wasn’t about to stop over this. “Sorry, I’ll cover it, okay? Let’s just finish the game first.” But Chelsea, in all her self-righteousness, snatched the ball right out of my hands and tossed it out of bounds, forcing the game to stop. I wasn’t thrilled. She held her chin high and announced, “Harper, this is a Cartier.” I glanced at her wrist. Watches aren’t really my thing—I don’t usually wear one. I could tell it was Cartier, but I had no idea which model or its price. Definitely didn’t look vintage, so maybe a few thousand. Fixing a watch face isn’t even a big expense. Her dramatic reaction wasn’t necessary. Everyone huddled around. “Oh my God, Chelsea, what are you going to do?” “Look at that shattered face! Oh, it makes me cringe.” Seeing everyone look so worried, I asked, “Is this thing really that expensive?” Someone who clearly knew their stuff spoke up, “Of course! It’s a Ballon Bleu!” Chelsea shoved her wrist in my face. “Over four thousand dollars!” Everyone gasped. That was way off from the tens of thousands I’d imagined. For that price, getting the glass repaired shouldn’t cost more than a couple hundred at most. She grimaced. “I’ll have to send it to a Cartier store, and then they’ll ship it to Switzerland for repairs. It’ll take at least a month!” What a hassle. “Tell you what, I’ll get you a new one,” I offered. Though I doubted she’d like a Vacheron. My parents have given me watches that start at ten grand, but I don’t wear them, so they’re all just sitting at home. Might as well give her one of those. “A new one?” She looked scornful. “This isn’t some knock-off, you know! My dad brought this straight from Switzerland!” It’s not like I planned on giving her a fake. This girl was unbelievable. I’d heard her family had some money. She carried a different Louis Vuitton or Chanel bag every day and treated people to bubble tea pretty often. But my family isn’t exactly struggling. That new building on campus? My dad donated that. I asked, “So, what do you want to do about it?” My boyfriend, Tyler, had just come back with water for me and was caught up on the whole situation. He turned to me with this look of blame, “Harper, couldn’t you be more careful?!” How was I supposed to know someone would be wearing a watch while playing basketball? Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable? Doesn’t it get in the way? “Harper, look at yourself. Can you even afford this?” Tyler had never spoken to me like this before. He gently held Chelsea’s wrist as if it was something precious. It’s just a broken watch. And my elbow’s still throbbing. “All right, Chelsea, how do you want to handle this? How much is it going to cost?” She still looked mournful. “I’ll have to get it checked at the store first.” Fine. “Just send me the receipt once it’s checked, and I’ll wire you the money.” Seemed like a reasonable solution. With all this fuss, I didn’t even feel like playing anymore. Neither did anyone else; they were too busy gossiping. “Wow, how’s Harper so calm about this? That’s going to be at least a few thousand. She’ll need to skip meals for months to pay that off.” “She doesn’t even know what it’ll cost to replace the glass! She probably thinks it’s just a piece of cheap glass.” I keep a low profile at Westfield. I don’t flaunt my wealth, and though my clothes and dorm decor are nice, they’re discreet with no big logos. Most people can’t tell what brand anything is. In situations like this, I can’t just flash my bank balance and yell, “I’ve got money.” Whatever. I couldn’t care less what they thought. I grabbed my stuff and walked off the court.
Tyler caught up to me and put his arm around my shoulder. “Harper, are you upset?” It would be a lie to say I wasn’t. He hadn’t given my feelings a second thought. “Don’t be mad, okay? I did it all for you. Didn’t you notice I was giving you the ‘play along’ look?” I honestly hadn’t. “By calling you out, I was trying to get Chelsea to drop it. As long as I showed I was on her side, she wouldn’t make it worse for you.” Is that how it worked? I wasn’t convinced. “Besides, I kept stressing that you couldn’t afford it, thinking Chelsea would let it go. But you didn’t get my hint at all and offered to pay right away!” It’s just a bit of money. Our cook spends more than that on groceries. Why waste time arguing? “Look, Harper, I’ll cover half of it for you.” I waved him off. “No need.” “We’re a couple. When we get married, it’ll all be shared assets anyway. Half and half sounds about right.” He took my hand and smiled sweetly. Turns out his “planning” was really just his practical thinking for our future together. Nice to know. I leaned into him. “What are our plans for tomorrow?” Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, and my family didn’t know I was dating anyone. My brother, Damon, who swore we two single “loners” needed to stick together, wanted to take me out. Tyler sighed, “Harper, I have to tutor tomorrow.” Oh. I had hoped he’d meet my brother. I felt a bit let down. But he looked determined. “It’s all for our future.” Tyler was always working so hard. As his girlfriend, it made sense to support him. “All right, then.”
Early Valentine’s Day, Tyler asked me to come downstairs. He was holding a bouquet of red roses and a beautifully wrapped gift bag. The moment he saw me, he gave me a big hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. I can’t stay long, but we had to keep the tradition going, right?” I thought I wouldn’t get to see him, but he’d clearly prepared a gift in advance. We chatted briefly, and he left. I happily went back to my dorm and opened the gift. It was a YSL gift set. My roommates gasped. “Wow, Harper, your boyfriend really spoils you!” “He must’ve spent a lot. No wonder he’s been so busy. He’s been working extra to afford this!” Tyler had given me what he thought was his very best. I was pleased. Jessie, my roommate and a beauty blogger, gave the box a long look but stayed quiet. She had a sharp eye for quality, so when she didn’t react, the other two hesitated to keep praising. “Jessie, is there something wrong?” I asked. She picked up the lipstick, examining it with a hint of reluctance. “I’m not completely sure. Let me check with a friend.” My heart sank. I’d never thought much about fake products or the difference between genuine and counterfeit. But if Jessie had doubts, there was a strong chance it was a fake. Out of consideration, she offered to double-check with someone. My other roommate consoled me, “Harper, maybe Tyler doesn’t know about luxury brands and got scammed.” “Yeah, straight guys can’t tell the difference between real and fake products.” They had a point. I messaged Tyler, “Where did you buy this gift set?” A few minutes later, he replied, “From the official store.” He even attached a screenshot of the purchase record. Could fake items show up in an official store? Or maybe Jessie was wrong this time? Tyler: “Is something wrong, babe? Don’t you like it?” Me: “No, it’s great. Thank you.” Tyler: “As long as you’re happy. I have to go tutor now, but let’s talk later, okay?” Damon took me to Lakeside Amusement Park, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Then, Jessie sent me another message, “It’s fake.” She shared some comparison photos of real and fake products. “Tyler probably bought it from an off-brand store.” She even sent a link to a $100 YSL gift set that matched mine exactly. “If he told you the truth, maybe he really thought YSL was that cheap. But if he’s lying, you should think twice about staying with him.” I was at a loss for words. I asked her, “Could the official store sell fakes?” “No way. This set is so obviously fake. If an official store ever sold counterfeit goods, they’d at least make it harder to spot.” But Tyler really did have a screenshot from the official store. I sent it to Jessie. She replied, “What if the official store gift wasn’t meant for you?” Good point. What if Tyler bought one from an off-brand store and one from the official store, one for me and one for someone else? That would explain it. But no—Tyler would never do something so low, right? We’d been together for over a year. We were solid. He’d never betray me like that. But just then, I spotted a familiar figure in the crowd. It looked like Tyler. Wasn’t he supposed to be tutoring? What was he doing here?
I was about to go after him when Damon returned with an ice cream cone. “What’s up?” he asked, noticing my expression. “I thought I saw a friend.” But in the blink of an eye, that familiar figure vanished. I licked my ice cream, then texted Tyler: “Where are you?” It took him half an hour to reply: “I’m tutoring.” Almost as if to prove it, he sent a picture of a kid bent over their homework. “Miss me already? I’ll come find you when I’m done, okay?” Once a seed of doubt is planted, it takes root quickly. I wanted to video call him right then. But with Damon next to me, I held off. After turning down yet another girl who asked for his number, Damon finally turned to me. “You don’t seem too happy, Harper.” “Mhm.” “No Valentine’s gift?” he guessed. I shook my head. Damon didn’t care what I was thinking, though, and snapped his fingers. Out of nowhere, a whole bunch of guys dressed like wannabe “princes” surrounded me. “Pick one, or a few, and they’ll keep you entertained.” This was classic Damon—wild and unpredictable. I mean, how was I supposed to handle ten of them? “Hey, Damon, I…” He gasped in mock surprise, “What?! You want all of them?” “When did I say that?!” He shrugged. “Fine, fine, only kids choose. We’ll take them all!” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just go grab dinner, Damon,” I said, trying to keep my irritation in check. The guys he brought in were attractive, sure, but I had a boyfriend. It didn’t feel right. That was, until Jessie texted me again. Jessie: “Harper, aren’t you with Tyler today?” Me: “Nope. He’s tutoring. I’m out with Damon.” But then she sent me a photo. It was Tyler and Chelsea at the claw machine in the same amusement park. The amusement park we were currently in. And this place isn’t cheap—at most places, tokens are a dollar each, but here, they’re ten. Every round at the machine costs twenty. Chelsea’s arms were full of stuffed animals. Knowing Tyler’s skills, it’d probably taken him at least ten tries to win each one. So he’s spending hundreds on claw machines for Chelsea, while he bought me a $100 knock-off YSL gift set? Jessie: “Do you want me to keep an eye on them? I can stay back.” Me: “Don’t worry about it, Jessie. I’ll handle it myself.” I’d had enough. I called Tyler, and after four unanswered calls, he finally picked up on the fifth. “Harper, what are you doing? I’m tutoring, and the kid’s parents are sitting right here!” he said, sounding irritated. I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “Video call me.” “I’m busy, Harper. Do you know how tiring tutoring is? Can you please not be so unreasonable?” His frustration was obvious. He wasn’t even trying to hide his irritation anymore. “So, am I the one being unreasonable, or are you feeling guilty about something?” I asked, my voice cool. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m working hard for our future, and here you are questioning me?” Our future? His idea of a future meant cozying up to a wealthy girl like Chelsea? Not on my watch. I hung up, sending him the link to the off-brand gift set and the photo of him with Chelsea. I left one final message: “We’re done.” And then I blocked him across the board. How long had this been going on with Chelsea? And that YSL set—the real one was for her, wasn’t it? Chelsea, the so-called high-and-mighty rich girl who claims she hates secondhand and vintage. Isn’t it funny that she’d go for someone else’s boyfriend?
After dinner, Damon drove me back to campus. I’d barely made it a few steps when a bank notification came through. It was a transfer of fifty grand from Damon. Damon: “Sis, just a little spending money—retail therapy makes everything better, right?” I was still grinning at my phone when I heard a loud shout behind me. “Harper! Never thought you’d turn out to be such a gold digger!” It was Tyler. My smile vanished as I turned around, expression already set. I tried to walk away, but he grabbed my arm, refusing to let go. “I saw you getting out of that Maybach! Who the hell were you with today?” Was he seriously pulling this? Fine. He wanted a confrontation? I’d give him one. “You never went to tutor anyone today, did you?” He let out a slow breath. “No, I was with Chelsea. I figured if I made her happy, she’d let the whole watch thing slide.” I couldn’t believe this excuse. Did he really expect me to believe he was doing this “for me”? And on Valentine’s Day, of all days? Softening his tone, he tried again, “Harper, I did it for you.” I let out a laugh, cold and sharp. “For me? Did I ask you to pay her back for that watch? Did I ask you to waste money at the amusement park with her? Or to get her a bunch of claw machine toys?” He froze, speechless for a moment. I continued, “Tyler, the next time you try to pass the blame, do me a favor—find a better excuse.” I took a step back, putting space between us. But he reached for my hand, gazing at me like he thought he could sweet-talk his way out of this. “Harper, I care about you.” Now, I felt nothing but disgust. “I just…look, I’ll be a senior soon. And I need to start getting serious about finding a good internship.” Right. And Chelsea’s family ran a business. I understood exactly what he was getting at. “Oh, Harper, you know what they say: a relationship without financial stability is just like sand—it blows away with the first breeze. I’m only trying to build a better life for us.” I almost burst out laughing. Tyler Young, quoting The Big Dream like he thought he’d get brownie points for it. “Cut the crap, Tyler. Just admit you’re after the easy route. Using ‘a better life’ as your excuse is nothing but a smokescreen to hide your own insecurity and selfishness.” “Us? No way. You can keep your knock-off Valentine’s Day gift set. I’ll give it back tomorrow,” I said. “My parents gave me enough real things—I don’t need some dollar-store mascara. I mean, the cheap junk might just give me a rash.” “I showed you the receipt! Who told you it was a knock-off, anyway? That ‘influencer’ roommate of yours? She’s just jealous!” His voice was rising, his face twisting with anger in a way I’d never seen before. You know the saying: “The louder the voice, the weaker the argument”? That was him, in a nutshell. Tyler assumed I couldn’t tell the difference between real and fake brands, and that I’d just believe whatever he said. As if Jessie would be jealous over a fake $100 set. She received PR packages from brands all the time. What would she need to envy? “The real set—the one you bought at the flagship store—you gave it to Chelsea, right? Buying knock-offs and passing them off as high-end? That’s some impressive penny-pinching.” Tyler finally snapped. “Once you give a gift, there’s no taking it back!” I smirked. “Oh, perfect. Then I’ll toss it in the trash.” “Transfer me back the $138!” Was he serious? Sure, it was a hundred bucks, something I’d normally never think twice about. But this wasn’t about the money—it was about not putting up with his nonsense. I scoffed, “Wait—did you forget to buy shipping insurance on it?” He froze. Of course, he had. “Tell you what—I’ll let Jessie return it tomorrow. I’m not sending you a dime.” He pointed a finger in my face, furious. “Harper, you’re just a greedy, materialistic user! Cheap and pathetic!” Oh, so he wasn’t broke—he just thought I wasn’t worth spending anything decent on. I looked down at myself. A custom bag worth over $30K, a pair of shoes that ran close to nine…my outfit alone could cover a down payment on a house in some cities. And he thought I wasn’t “worth it”? “You couldn’t even shine Chelsea’s shoes!” he spat, and for a second, my throat went tight with tears. This was how he really saw me—as a discount option. Staying there any longer, I’d only embarrass myself. I turned and walked away. But even as I tried to leave, he wouldn’t stop. “Harper! Nobody else will treat you like I did! Everyone else just wants to mess around with you! You think you’ll find someone who actually cares?” “Forget ever seeing me again! Chelsea’s already agreed to be with me! You’ll come crying back, just watch!” I sped up, mortified. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be shouting. I might be embarrassed, but not as much as he should have been.
Heartbreak? That’s what shopping sprees are for. Damon really got it—retail therapy was the cure. Afterward, I headed back to the dorms, arms full of bags, and handed out gifts to my roommates. Jessie was holding a brand-new Dior bag, eyes wide. “Harper, where did you hit the jackpot?” I just smiled and kept quiet. Jessie was seriously loyal. The second she heard about Tyler’s betrayal, she made a video about it, telling her followers every ridiculous detail. She left out the names but let her followers know she was a student at Westfield. Now, everyone was trying to piece together who this cheapskate was. Someone even brought it up on the Westfield Confessions Board. Tyler better lay low for a while, or someone would inevitably connect the dots. On Friday afternoon, I headed over to the student council meeting. As I reached the door, I heard voices already chatting inside. “Wonder how she got so much money to buy all those bags—her ex Tyler says she’s been playing both sides. She’s got a rich guy giving her gifts but won’t let go of ‘ol Tyler the up-and-coming success story either.” Only Tyler would say something like that. Referring to himself as a “rising star,” what a joke. “Even if she is getting bags from some rich dude, she wouldn’t flaunt it so obviously, right? I bet that bag’s fake…” “Yeah, exactly! She said she’d buy Chelsea a new watch after breaking her old one. That was a Cartier, not a cheap knock-off!” I was enjoying listening in when someone suddenly tapped my shoulder. Before I could react, they covered my mouth to stifle my yelp. I turned around—it was Logan, the student council president. He motioned for me to stay quiet, letting go of my mouth before standing by the door to eavesdrop with me. Wasn’t Logan usually all business and aloof? I never expected him to join me in something like this. The conversation inside didn’t seem to be going anywhere, though, and after a few minutes, Logan leaned in and whispered, “Had enough?” I nodded. He gestured for me to step aside, then pushed the door open and strode in. The room fell silent immediately. I waited a moment before following him inside. Chelsea’s friends, who shared her department, looked me up and down. I casually placed my brand-new Hermès bag on the table right next to Chelsea’s LV, making a clear statement. This wasn’t about competing; it was about cutting Chelsea down a peg. She couldn’t handle it. “Harper, can I see your bag?” she asked, forcing a smile. “Go ahead.” She inspected it thoroughly, practically needing a magnifying glass for every detail. Finally, she looked up and asked, “Where’d you get it? The details look surprisingly realistic.” The not-so-subtle implication was clear. “Oh, it’s authentic,” I replied, sipping my bubble tea. “I picked it up at the mall. But you—usually carrying LV and Chanel—how come you know so much about Hermès?” Who says I couldn’t throw some shade? Chelsea’s bags were all entry-level. The idea she could spot a fake Hermès was laughable. Her face turned red as she stammered, “My mom’s a big fan of Hermès.” “Oh, then it’s your mom who’d know what’s real—not you, right?” Her expression darkened. Seeing her at a loss for words, her friends jumped in to back her up. “If you can afford Hermès, Harper, why haven’t you paid Chelsea back for her watch? It’s been fixed for weeks. Are you hoping she’ll just forget about it?” “Yeah, Harper, don’t be generous with yourself and stingy with others.” Chelsea had never shown me the receipt for that repair. And right then, it all clicked. She wasn’t upset about the watch or looking to be reimbursed. She wanted to humiliate me. Who plays basketball wearing a pricey watch, anyway? She’d set the whole thing up to make me look bad. The thing is, I wasn’t the “broke student” she imagined. I could pay. “What’s the cost, Chelsea? I’ll send it over now,” I said, pulling out my phone. With a smug expression, she tilted her head. “$7431. But I’ll knock off a few bucks—just make it an even $7400.” I wasn’t about to let her act like she was doing me a favor. I intended to pay down to the last penny. But just as I began typing in my password, a hand covered my phone screen. “That won’t be necessary.”
Logan, who’d been busy setting up the projector, was now beside me. “According to the US Civil Code, Section 1176, anyone who participates in an activity with inherent risks isn’t entitled to claim damages for accidents caused by others during that activity,” he said calmly. “Unless there was intent or gross negligence involved, that is.” He continued, “A cracked watch face doesn’t amount to ‘gross negligence,’ and Harper had no intention of causing damage.” His voice was clear, each word sharp and precise. I was floored. This was a solution I’d never considered. Logan had been away at a competition the day of the game—how did he know so much about it? Chelsea hadn’t expected Logan to interject, and despite her nerves, she put up a front. “You weren’t even there! How would you know she didn’t do it on purpose?” she blurted. Logan didn’t so much as flinch. If anything, he looked amused. “Several New Media staff members were at the game, and some of them recorded it on video.” He held up a USB. “I’ve already downloaded the footage. If you’d like, I can play it for everyone.” Chelsea’s face turned ghostly pale. Logan didn’t hold back, adding, “If anyone acted on purpose, it would’ve been you, Chelsea, angling to bump into Harper.” The student council president wasn’t just logical—he was relentless. He finished with one last comment: “Before you try pulling stunts like this, Chelsea, you might want to brush up on the law.” The entire room erupted in whispers. “She really thought Harper would be an easy mark!” “I mean, Chelsea’s got money. Would she really do all this over a few thousand?” “Oh, come on—haven’t you heard? Tyler, Harper’s ex? He’s been hanging around Chelsea non-stop…” That hit the nail on the head. “People are saying that viral post about the world’s stingiest boyfriend? They think it’s Tyler! I mean, who does that? Buying legit gifts for the side chick and scamming his girlfriend with fakes? Guy’s a piece of work.” “I saw Jessie’s video about it too. I couldn’t stop laughing—he really thinks people are that dumb? He probably thought a knock-off would pass as the real deal!” “Those two can just stay together. Please, don’t let them drag anyone else down!” Chelsea’s face turned a dark shade of red. Her glare was cold enough to freeze a room, aimed straight at me like I was her sworn enemy. I simply looked back, unfazed. Finally, she muttered something about feeling unwell and bolted out of the room. Once she’d left, Logan turned to me, smiling faintly. “Doesn’t the air seem a bit fresher now?” I flashed him a thumbs-up.
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