During the first month of our relationship, my girlfriend was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and her therapy sessions cost ten thousand dollars each month. I sacrificed my rest, working tirelessly washing cars and delivering takeout, just to support her in battling her illness. But then, while working a car wash job that paid a thousand dollars, I saw the door of a Ferrari open. My girlfriend, who was supposed to be at therapy, stepped out, looking shocked when our eyes met. “Donna? What are you doing here?” I took a step back, staring at the red Ferrari in front of me, feeling disoriented. Despite the bright lights of the store, it was as if I had been plunged into darkness. I’d never even touched a luxury car like this before. “Dan, please listen to me,” Donna said, grabbing my hand anxiously. “I left late this afternoon… I took an Uber because I wouldn’t make it to the hospital in time.” Normally, when she pleaded like this, I’d relent. But not now. I looked at her outfit. The purple silk dress she wore looked expensive, like it was made just for her. I glanced at the nearby red Ferrari and smirked inwardly. Who uses a luxury car for Uber rides? Unable to muster the strength to argue, I looked at Donna, my hands falling to my sides helplessly. “Is this amusing to you, Donna? A young lady who spends a thousand dollars on a car wash, pretending to be poor around me, and won’t even buy a pack of sanitary pads?” My chest tightened, a wave of bitterness washed over me as memories surfaced, causing my heart to ache. “You really fooled me. A thousand dollars! I have to wash eighty-five cars and work an entire week to earn that much.” The most absurd part was that before work, I had prepared a surprise for Donna. I had just received my paycheck last night and bought a silver ring with tiny diamonds because every time we passed the jewelry store, she’d gaze at it longingly. I never imagined that the cost of washing her car would surpass the price of that ring.
Donna often curled up in my arms at night, saying I was the only one who truly loved her, even more than her own parents. In countless nights, exhausted from working tirelessly to pay for her medical bills, those words kept me going. But now, as I look back, my struggle to save up ten thousand dollars, standing on blistered feet at the car wash, seems laughable. After all, the Donna before me was dressed head-to-toe in designer brands, with the scarf around her neck alone costing over ten thousand dollars. “I worked so hard to earn money so your condition could improve sooner. I even ended up in the hospital from exhaustion. Didn’t you know that?” Tears blurred my vision. Donna’s indifferent expression began to crack, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I’m sorry,” she said. On my birthday, she gave me a handwritten letter. Under the dim light, tears of emotion blurred my eyes. Reading her words, I promised myself to cherish her for life. But now, seeing the Ferrari in front of me, I felt drained of all strength, and I dropped the pressure washer. I took off my gloves, threw them at her, and headed for the door. Donna caught up to me, pulling me back. “Dan, I’ll make it up to you, don’t be mad. This is all my fault…” Before she could finish, the car door opened again, and someone stepped out. The air filled with the smell of tobacco, and a voice slowly became clear. “Donna, what’s going on? Why are you talking so much with a car washer?”
Donna froze, her expression stiffening. We turned to see a man in a white shirt, smoking, leaning against the car door. Donna hurried over to him, “Brother, why are you out here? I’m almost done, go back inside…” But the man didn’t seem to care. He pulled Donna aside, holding a cigarette between two fingers, and walked toward me. His thin lips curled into a mocking smile, asking, “Car washer, do you remember who I am?” I rubbed my eyes, taking a long time to connect the person in front of me with the face in my memory. “Jessica?” “Oh, you remember. I thought you’d forgotten.” Jessica’s almond eyes curved, and he naturally pulled Donna into his arms. His smile was exactly the same as it was a year ago. I met Jessica last year while delivering takeout to make ends meet. He was one of my customers. Because I was five minutes late, he poured a whole bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall on me. Jessica observed my expression, as if confirming my memory. He placed a large hand on Donna’s shoulder, pretending to be surprised. “Donna, you went too far. I just complained about an annoying delivery guy, and you actually dealt with him for me. Amazing…” Jessica glanced at me and couldn’t help but laugh. “Playing with this fake noble Dan is just like playing with a dog.” Donna’s expression was unnatural. I covered my eyes, holding back tears. My rough palm rubbed against my eyelids, and my heart felt as if it were being cut. Those moments I thought were genuine were just seasoning for their wealthy couple’s relationship. Hardworking ordinary people like me were like stray cats and dogs to them, ignored and kicked aside when they were in a bad mood. So I didn’t want to stay any longer. I wiped the tears spilling from my eyes and turned to leave. Jessica suddenly raised his voice, asking me, “Dan, do you know why Donna told you she has bipolar disorder?”
I abruptly halted, uncertain of what he intended to say. A heavy silence hung behind me, followed by an eruption of deafening laughter. The voice, however, clung to me like a ghostly whisper around my neck. “It’s because I told her your only sister died by suicide due to bipolar disorder. The moment Donna says she has bipolar, you become a fool and obey her every word. And guess what, hahaha, you really worked yourself to the bone for her!” A surge of heat flooded my mind, my blood boiling and rushing to my head. By the time I regained my senses, I was already striding towards Jessica, repeatedly swinging my fist at his face. If I could forgive this, I might as well become a saint. My chest heaved as I grasped Jessica’s collar: “Playing poor, huh? Pretending to be sick, huh? Enjoy mocking other people’s wounds, huh? No wonder your parents cheated, no wonder your dad doesn’t care and your mom doesn’t love you, you scumbag. Today, I’m going to beat you until your own mother can’t recognize you!” During the year I spent with Donna, whether our feelings were genuine or not, we shared our pasts. So, I knew their social circle was emotionally detached, with parents mostly preoccupied with their own lives, leading to psychological issues in these young people. I understood their pain and knew where to hit where it hurt the most. Before they could react, I slapped Jessica several times. The moment Jessica mentioned my sister Rachel with a smirk, the rational thread in my mind snapped. She was the last piece of purity in my heart, and I wouldn’t allow anyone to tarnish it. Seeing Jessica about to fight back, Donna ran over, crying, and pulled me away. He gasped for air, spitting out blood. “You’re a lunatic car washer daring to hit me! You’re really insane! Donna, call Rose and have her bring people over to handle this…” Jessica’s expression was vicious, but Donna clung to his arm, pleading, “No… Blame me, I’m the one who owes him too much.” She fumbled to pick up her bag and searched through it. After a while, she found a card and handed it to me with her head down. “The password is the day we got together. I put some money in there—it’s a small compensation for you.” I clenched my fists, my words as sharp as knives: “Hope you two lock yourselves away.” With that, I took the card from her hand and walked away.
The card had $1.2 million. I withdrew the cash and went to another bank next door, eventually securing a decent annual interest rate. I put $200,000 on WhatsApp, and $1 million in the bank. In this 30-square-meter one-bedroom apartment, Donna’s things were everywhere. Although this place wasn’t small, it was quite remote. If it weren’t for Donna, I wouldn’t have rented it. Initially, I didn’t want to move in so soon with Donna, whom I had just started dating a month ago. But because she claimed to have bipolar disorder and feared being alone, I let my guard down. Even now, I can’t distinguish whether my feelings for her were out of love or guilt after learning she had the same illness as my sister. Maybe I thought by doing this, I could finally untie the knot in my heart. Speaking of which, she had a lot of stuff—couple mugs, matching outfits, and couple pillows, all bought by me. But seeing them everywhere was truly annoying, so I decided to pack them all into trash bags. I stared at the trash bags in the corner, my gaze slowly overtaken by the blackness, and gradually relaxed as I fell asleep. I dreamt of that afternoon again. I was coming home from work when I heard police and ambulance sirens. The sharp wails almost burst my eardrums. I stood among the crowd, watching my sister being carried onto a stretcher. The red dress she wore was as bright as blood, staining her pale wrists red. Her face was as white as jasmine, her long eyelashes drooping, just like when she used to wait for me to come home but fell asleep. But this time, she would never open her eyes again, never run over and sweetly say that her brother was finally home. A week later, I walked, step by step, towards my sister’s new home, holding an urn. My sister, she wouldn’t be coming back.
Tears soaked my pillow. I woke up crying, staring into a pair of glowing eyes in the dark. “Who are you?!” I screamed, turning on the bedside lamp, and the woman instinctively covered her face. It was Donna, still wearing a mask, holding the trash bag tightly in her arms. I rubbed my eyes, regretting not changing the password for the rented room. The couple mugs, pillows, and clothes I packed into the trash bag that afternoon were still there, hugged by her. “What are you doing with those?” Donna clutched the bag tighter, silently lowering her head. “Every piece here is a memory of ours. I can’t let go…” “Even worthless things catch your eye?” Sitting up in bed, I looked around for anything important. Now that we had broken up, I could just move out. Donna held the bag, fingers lightly stroking it, her voice filled with grievance and disappointment: “Dan, I know you don’t believe anything I say, but I truly only have you in my heart… No one has ever loved me as wholeheartedly as you do. I can’t live without you.” I shook my head, chuckling bitterly. The events of the afternoon played out like a cruel joke. “Enough, did you love me so much that you flaunted your affection with Jessica in front of me? Should I be cheering you on?” “Jessica wanted to drive to your place! I couldn’t stop him… And even if I was with him, I just made a mistake anyone could make. Can’t you forgive me a little?” Her words were laughable, and as I laughed, tears fell. The year I loved her most, I worked 13-hour days and could only afford one meal a day. Life’s abyss chewed me up until only bones remained. Thinking I could help her cure her bipolar disorder was sweet in my heart. “I can’t tolerate your deceit. The moment the lie was exposed, you became a thorn in my heart. Pulling it out will only make it bleed. But Donna, did you ever think that by using my sister’s situation to get close to me, you trapped yourself too?” “What are you talking about?” I didn’t respond, silently opening the door and waiting for her to leave. Her face turned pale, as if stung by my indifference. She clutched the bag tighter and walked towards the door. “Don’t joke about bipolar anymore. Your so-called joke might make it harder for real patients to face their condition.” Like Rachel’s tragedy, it would happen again. After a while, Donna nodded lightly. Then she pointed to the jewelry box on the nightstand, still remembering that ring. “Can I have this?” “Jessica will buy you a better one.” “I only want the one you gave me. Dan, we were so happy before. Do you really not want me anymore?” Her voice was soft, with a hint of desperation. I heard her muffled sobs, saw her trembling shoulders. I never imagined that Donna, the young heiress, would one day ask for my help. Knowing her pride and seeing her defeat didn’t bring me any joy. I just stood there silently. Understanding my refusal, she quietly took the ring before leaving. Donna’s eyes turned red as she looked at me. “Love me one more time, okay?” “No.”
After Donna left, I poured myself a glass of water. I took a few sips, and my mind started to wander. I kept refreshing my phone screen, flipping between different apps, but nothing seemed to make sense. Then, I noticed a flood of red notifications on my account. When I clicked to check, I discovered a slew of direct messages: “Loser, if you’re being ridiculous, go get help. Why are you bothering someone else’s girlfriend?” I frowned and clicked on the links. Someone had posted photos of me with Donna online, showing me delivering breakfast and gifts to her. Donna’s face was blurred, but mine was clearly visible. The post accused me of harassing the wealthy CEO Jessica’s girlfriend and demanded a public apology. As I scrolled down, my hand holding the glass began to tremble slightly. There were hundreds of comments criticizing me. “This guy looks decent but does such shameless things. Appearances can be deceiving.” “Don’t you see? He’s obviously trying to latch onto a rich girl to avoid struggling for years. But going after Jessica’s girlfriend is like hitting a brick wall.” A wave of dizziness hit me, and the cup slipped from my hand. The ceramic shattered on the floor, breaking into several pieces. I crouched down, desperately trying to piece it back together, but it wouldn’t return to its original form. This cup was a birthday gift from Rachel, the year she passed away, and she had made it herself. Rachel and I were twins. When we were ten, our parents died in a car accident, leaving us with only twenty thousand dollars. No relatives wanted to take us in; we were like unwanted burdens, tossed around in disdain. So, after graduating junior high, I started working to support my sister, eventually helping her attend a prestigious university. The cup had a white and blue gradient, and the little stars on it were crafted by Rachel’s hands. “Bro, I made this cup for you with my own money. Do you like it? My brother is so handsome, this fresh color suits you best! I will work hard to become successful and buy more and better things for my brother. I won’t be a kid who worries you anymore!” Her eyes sparkled, and I pinched her chubby cheeks, nodding with affection. Rachel, it’s alright. With your brother, you can always be a kid. At the bottom of the broken cup, there was some writing. After piecing it together, I found the number “907.” When Rachel gave it to me two years ago, there was no writing on the bottom. She must have added it later. I held the ceramic pieces, thinking for a moment, and then my gaze fell on the corner where my sister’s suitcase was. I slid the numbers, and with a click, the lock opened. Inside the suitcase, there were only four items: a pair of white ballet shoes, a photo of her practicing ballet, a journal, and a cell phone she used before. I gently touched the cover of the journal with Rachel’s name on it, picked it up, and opened it carefully. Starting from the beginning, the earlier entries were just daily records, including which boys confessed to her at school. Rachel was born with curly chestnut hair, a small, doll-like face. She even received an offer from a director. But perhaps because our parents left us so early, even with all the admiration she received from others, she never dared to face it directly and only opened her heart in her journal. After starting university, Rachel, who had practiced ballet since childhood, was recommended by the school to participate in major competitions. Each spin and jump on stage made her shine like a star. I smiled as I read the entries, but my smile froze when I saw a particular line. Because my sister mentioned Jessica’s name.
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