The year Liam was at his poorest, he was drowning in a debt that felt like an ocean, tens of thousands of dollars pulling him under. He couldn’t even afford groceries most weeks. My heart ached for him, so I spent my nights and weekends running a small stall on the busiest street downtown, selling handmade ornaments and little gift boxes, anything to help him climb out of the hole. On Christmas Eve, the air thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and cold promise, a young couple stopped at my stall. They bought a small, hand-painted glass apple, and the girl, her cheeks flushed from the cold, smiled at me. “Merry Christmas,” she said. “I hope you and your boyfriend have a love that lasts forever.” I smiled back, a genuine, warm thing that reached my eyes. I watched them walk away, hand in hand, and decided to pack up early, to go home and surprise Liam. Then I looked up, and my world tilted on its axis. Across the crowded street, under the festive string lights, was Liam. My Liam, who was supposed to be across town on a double shift, delivering takeout to make ends meet. He wasn't in his worn-out delivery jacket. He was with a girl, someone I’d never seen before, who looked like she’d been spun from sugar and innocence. Her arm was looped through his, her head resting on his shoulder as she giggled about something. “Oh, Liam,” she whined, her voice carrying on the crisp air. “When are you going to get tired of this ‘poor boy’ act?” 1 I didn’t realize they were walking toward me until they were almost there. As they drew closer, the details sharpened into a cruel, high-definition picture. Liam was wearing a tailored wool coat, the kind that costs more than my semester’s tuition. He moved with an easy, careless grace that was utterly foreign, the quiet confidence of someone who had never wanted for anything. He was a stranger. His eyes, those beautiful, familiar eyes, swept over me and my little stall without a flicker of recognition. He was a customer, I was the girl selling trinkets on the street. He casually picked up the most elaborately packaged glass apple, the one I’d saved for a special sale. “Wrap this up nicely,” he instructed, his voice cool and detached as he handed it to me. I stared at his face, my own hidden behind a thick winter scarf. Disbelief was a cold knot in my stomach. Why wasn’t he working? Who was this girl? And why was he dressed like a prince when he’d told me he could barely afford new socks? Was this a lie? Or something else? I forced down the wave of questions, my voice muffled by the fabric as I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Is this for your girlfriend, sir?” The words were quiet, but loud enough for both of them to hear. I dug my nails into my palms, my entire being focused on his face, searching for any crack in the facade. But there was nothing. Liam’s expression remained placid, bored even. It was the girl, Chloe, who reacted. Her lip curled in disgust. “Ugh, as if. I don’t want that cheap garbage.” Liam blinked, then a small, amused smile touched his lips. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of her silky hair behind her ear. “Relax, sweetheart. This is for Ava. When we get back to my place, I’ll have a few crates of organic Fuji apples flown in for you.” She melted against him, her voice a saccharine purr. “You’re the best, Liam. But seriously, when are you going to tell Ava the truth? This has gone on long enough.” She sighed dramatically. “If you hadn’t lost that stupid game of Truth or Dare, you never would have had to ask her out in the first place. I can’t believe she’s still clinging to you.” Then, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, laced with venom. “I told you, all these charity cases are the same. They just smell the money on you.” Her words hit me like a physical blow, a crack of thunder that left my ears ringing. I ducked my head, pretending to fuss with the wrapping paper as tears burned hot behind my eyes. For his money? I thought of the past two years. The money I’d spent on him—on his rent, his groceries, his ‘debt’—had to be close to ten thousand dollars. My savings. My emergency fund. All of it, gone. If he was so rich, why had he let me? Why had he lied? I lived in a constant state of anxiety, skipping meals to save a few dollars, wearing my coats until they were threadbare, all because I was terrified his lenders would show up at our door again. Was it fun for him? Watching me play the fool? All those nights I’d held him, telling him everything would be okay, he must have been laughing inside. A bitter fire began to burn in my chest. I wanted to scream, to demand an answer. But before I could speak, Liam’s voice cut through my thoughts, a low murmur meant for Chloe. “Hey, come on. I haven’t told Ava who I am yet, so you can’t go spreading it around campus, okay?” Chloe pouted. “Liam, don’t tell me you’re actually starting to like her?” His body went rigid for a split second before he scoffed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just having some fun with her. You think I’d ever be serious about a girl like that?” His gaze, sharp and questioning, suddenly landed back on me. “Hey, lady. Is it ready yet?” I looked up, right into his eyes. The questions I wanted to scream died in my throat. My hand, trembling slightly, held the bag out to him. Chloe snatched it from my grasp before he could. “Come on, Liam,” she urged, pulling him away. “There are so many other stores I want to see.” I watched their backs disappear into the throng of Christmas shoppers, a thousand tiny needles pricking at my heart. So this is what betrayal felt like. It wasn’t a clean break, but a slow, grinding pain. He’d told me he wore his tattered clothes because he was afraid of collectors recognizing him. I’d believed him. I’d bought him new shirts and a warm coat, none of which I’d ever seen him wear. When I asked, he’d said they were too nice, that he was scared of ruining them, that he was saving everything I gave him like a precious treasure. And I, like an idiot, had felt a surge of tenderness for him. It had only made me work harder. It was all a lie. He must have looked at me every single day and seen a pathetic, gullible fool. My love, my sacrifice—it was all just a game for a rich boy with too much time on his hands. I closed my eyes, the festive cheer of the street suddenly feeling mocking and cruel. The energy to sell anything else had evaporated. Shivering in the wind that cut straight through my thin coat, I packed up my cart and began the long, lonely walk home. I didn't know that after I left, Liam returned, a frown creasing his handsome face as he stared at the empty patch of sidewalk where my stall had been. He’d heard something in the vendor’s voice, a familiar cadence that had unsettled him. But there was no one there. It must have been his imagination. “See, Liam? I told you it was nothing,” Chloe said, her voice laced with impatience. “Besides, even if Ava found out, she’d probably just cling to you even tighter.” He scanned the crowd one last time, a faint, inexplicable unease settling in his gut, before letting her pull him away. He just hoped he was wrong. Back in our small, drafty apartment, I stared blankly at the ceiling. The sound of a key in the lock made my stomach clench. Liam walked in, holding a small, elegantly wrapped bag—the one from my stall. His voice was bright, full of the manufactured cheerfulness he always used with me. “Ava, baby, look what I brought you!” I didn't answer. Liam was beautiful. There was no other word for it. He had finely sculpted features, and a small mole just below the corner of one of his expressive, almond-shaped eyes. When he looked at me, those eyes had always seemed to overflow with a love so profound it made me feel like the only person in the world. He was tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders and long legs. Even in the cheap, secondhand clothes he wore for me, he carried himself with an innate elegance. I’d once asked him why he didn’t try modeling to make extra money. He’d deflected, mumbling something about it being too competitive. Now I knew the real reason: he couldn’t risk someone from his real life recognizing him. He couldn’t risk me finding out and latching onto him for good. He came over to the couch and wrapped his arms around me from behind, nuzzling his face into my neck. His lips were warm against my skin. “Why so quiet?” he whispered. I gently pried his hands from my waist and slid away from his embrace. “I’m just tired,” I said, my voice flat. The energy to play along, to continue this charade, was gone. I was about to confront him, to ask him everything, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Liam pulled it out. A flicker of something—guilt?—crossed his face as he read the screen. He saw me watching and quickly shoved the phone back into his pocket, forcing a casual smile. “It’s my boss,” he explained. “Things are crazy tonight, they need me to come back in for a few hours.” I said nothing. I didn’t have to. He filled the silence himself, pulling a soft cashmere scarf from the bag he’d brought. He looped it around my neck, his fingers brushing against my skin. His voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur. “I hope my Ava knows I want to be by her side for every holiday.” I looked up at him then. The little mole by his eye seemed to catch the light. I used to love his eyes, how they made me feel so completely seen, so cherished. Now, I couldn’t read them at all. They were just a beautiful, empty reflection. “Liam, I…” He cut me off, leaning in to kiss my forehead, his tone laced with a convincing regret. “I know, baby. I hate that I have to leave you for even a second. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.” And with that, before I could say another word, he was gone. I stared at the closed door. In the brief moment his phone screen had been angled toward me, I had seen the sender’s name. It was Chloe. The message read: The fireworks by the lake are gorgeous. Wish you were here. A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. What was I even holding on to? Maybe, deep down, I’d known something was wrong for a while now. I’d just chosen not to see it. But now the truth had been flayed open, raw and bleeding, and the pain in my chest was a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs. I fell into a fitful sleep, my dreams a chaotic reel of my time with Liam. I woke to a damp pillow, which I stripped from the bed and threw into the trash without a second thought. It was part of a matching set we’d bought together. It didn’t matter anymore. For months, I had pinched every penny, denied myself every small comfort, all to save a little extra money for him. And in return, I got this. A lie. A joke. My gaze fell on the thin coat I’d worn to the stall, still hanging by the door. It was useless against the winter wind; the cold seeped in from every direction. I took it down, folded it neatly, and dropped it into the trash can on top of the pillowcase. Then I called a cab and went to the largest, most expensive department store in the city. The moment I stepped through the revolving doors, I saw them. Liam and Chloe, standing near the jewelry counter, laughing at something he’d said. My first instinct was to turn and walk away, to pretend I hadn’t seen them. But Liam’s eyes were sharp. He spotted me. “Ava? What are you doing here?” I froze, the question catching me off guard. For a second, I couldn’t figure out what he meant by it. Chloe’s arm tightened around his. She looked me up and down, her expression a mask of pure condescension. “This place is a little out of your price range, isn’t it?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The air around us felt thick, heavy with unspoken things. Their questions were so full of holes, of contradictions. How had I never noticed before? It’s true what they say—sometimes you have to step away from the painting to see the whole picture. I took a deep breath, deciding it wasn't worth it. I turned to leave. Liam sidestepped, blocking my path. “Since you’re here, you can help us pick out a Christmas present.” “Help who? Chloe?” I forced a cold, brittle laugh. “Sorry. I think I’ll pass.” The flesh of my palm stung where my nails were digging in. I had never, not once, said no to him. The look of genuine shock on his face was almost satisfying. “Ava, don’t be like that,” he said, his voice laced with a frustrated sigh. “Chloe is just my sister.” I held his gaze for a long moment. The little mole by his eye seemed to disappear into the shadows. “What kind of sister?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “The kind you kiss under the mistletoe?” Without waiting for an answer, I pushed past him and walked out of the store. From behind me, I could hear his strained voice trying to soothe her. “She’s just upset, Chloe. Don’t pay any attention to her.” Back on campus, I made it to my Political Science lecture fifteen minutes early, a first for me. The professor raised an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn’t used to seeing me. Between my classes and the stall, I was usually sprinting in at the last possible second, if I wasn’t late. My reputation with him was not stellar. I saw a flicker of approval in his eyes, but before he could say anything, Chloe swept into the lecture hall, a stack of books in her arms. She made a point of sitting right next to me. As she arranged her things, she let her left wrist fall onto the desk with a delicate clink. A gold chain bracelet, studded with tiny, winking diamonds. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice a low purr meant only for me. “Liam gave it to me.” I didn’t look at her. I just turned my gaze to the front of the room. My non-reaction seemed to throw her off. She sat in silence for the rest of the lecture. But as soon as the professor dismissed us, her voice rang out, high and panicked. “Oh my god! My bracelet! It’s gone!” She put on a convincing show of tears. “My boyfriend just gave it to me today! Please, can everyone help me look?” A sick feeling washed over me. I knew exactly where this was going. I started packing my bag, desperate to get out of there, but as I lifted my textbook, the gold bracelet slid from between the pages and clattered onto the floor. Chloe gasped and snatched it up. She pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes wide with manufactured betrayal. “Ava! I can’t believe you! You stole my bracelet! My boyfriend gave this to me!” Her voice was loud, catching the attention of everyone still in the room. Murmurs and accusatory glances turned in my direction. I felt trapped, voiceless. I just wanted to disappear. And then I saw him. Liam was standing by the door, his face a thunderous mask, his eyes dark and fixed on me. “You told me you didn’t want a gift,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “So why would you steal hers?” I stared at him, stunned. The injustice of it all was a lump in my throat. “You really believe I did this?” The words came out as a wounded whisper. He didn’t have to answer. His silence was answer enough. He walked over, his expression cold and unforgiving. He placed a small, beautifully wrapped box on my desk. “I really thought you were different,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “I guess I was wrong.” He didn’t give me another glance. He just took Chloe’s hand and led her out of the room, leaving me alone in a sea of judging eyes. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t draw a full breath. Back in my apartment, I opened the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was a silver bracelet. It was a near-perfect copy of Chloe’s, just without the diamonds. A consolation prize. A cheap copy for the cheap girl. I stared at it for a long time before closing the lid and shoving the box into the back of a drawer. A bitter smile twisted my lips. He didn’t even like me. He just liked the performance of liking me. And now he was giving me a knockoff of his real girlfriend’s gift as some kind of parting insult. This was the first expensive thing he had ever given me. Was he done with the game? Was this his way of ending it? I didn’t know. And I was too tired to care. I just knew I had to talk to him, to end this charade once and for all. I didn’t owe him a thing. And he had no right to humiliate me. Lying in bed, I scrolled through my phone, my thumb stopping on a post from the campus confessions page. It was a picture of Liam and Chloe from earlier that day, a candid shot of them laughing. The caption read: The King of Comp-Sci and the Queen of the Art School. Name a more iconic duo. The comments were a flood of heart emojis and congratulations. Buried deep in the thread was a single, confused comment: Wait, isn’t he dating Ava Miller? It was quickly lost in the tide. I turned off my phone and closed my eyes, the familiar ache returning to my chest. You can’t spend months loving someone, even a version of someone that doesn’t exist, and not feel the loss. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text from Liam. Meet me at The Crestview Hotel this weekend. And pick out a nice gift to apologize to her. I stared at the message. This weekend was his birthday. So this was it. The final act. He was going to end things at his own birthday party. I hesitated. The gift I’d gotten him, the one I’d been working on for months, was already wrapped. It was a hand-bound book of sketches I’d made of all our favorite places, a deeply personal, heartfelt thing meant to show him he was cherished. Now, the thought of giving it to him made me feel sick. After days of wrestling with myself, I went. I took the gift with me. Not for him, but for me. It would be my final farewell to the foolish, hopeful girl I used to be. He was waiting outside the hotel entrance when I arrived. He was dressed down in jeans and a hoodie, still keeping up the pretense for me. I didn’t bother to call him on it. He looked anxious, pacing back and forth. He must have called me a dozen times, all of which I’d ignored. The relief that washed over his face when he saw me was palpable. He rushed over. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” My heart was beating a slow, steady rhythm. “I have something to tell you,” I said quietly. Before he could ask, the hotel doors swung open and Chloe came running out, dressed in a red party dress that looked like it belonged to a princess. Liam immediately shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s freezing out here. What are you doing?” His voice wasn’t angry, just soft with a gentle, chiding affection. She snuggled into his chest. “I was worried about you,” she cooed. Watching them, the last bit of air left my lungs. I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them, my resolve hardening into steel. “Liam,” I said, my voice clear and firm. “We’re over.” At that exact moment, the screech of tires sliced through the air. A car, coming too fast, was careening toward the curb. Instinctively, Liam grabbed Chloe, pulling her back and shielding her with his body. But in the chaos, in the one spot he couldn’t see, Chloe’s hand shoved hard against my back. I had been about to step back, to get out of the way. But the push sent me stumbling forward, directly into the car’s path. In the split second as my body was thrown into the air, my last glimpse was of Liam, his arms wrapped tightly around Chloe, murmuring words of comfort into her hair. She was the one who looked like the victim. I was just the collateral damage. As my body hit the pavement with a sickening thud, a strange sense of peace washed over me. It’s okay. This is okay. I don’t owe you anything anymore, Liam.
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