Chapter 2

My roommate Lucy asked me, "Hazel, you mentioned your period hadn't come for several months last time. Did you go get it checked?"

I froze, a bitter taste in my mouth, unsure how to answer.

My classmates all envied me, saying my boyfriend put thirty thousand dollars aside for me every month, the kind of boyfriend they couldn't find even if they searched high and low.

But who knew that my period hadn't come for four months, and I couldn't even afford a hospital visit?

That so-called thirty thousand dollars every month? I hadn't touched a single cent.

The card was in my hand, but the PIN wasn't.

I asked for the PIN a few times, and Ethan would always say, "I'll tell you the PIN later. Anyway, the card is with you; the money isn't going anywhere."

This empty promise became Ethan's leverage over me. I found it hard to refuse him anything he asked for.

I had to buy him clothes and shoes, pay his car insurance, and even top up his phone.

His phone was the latest iPhone, while mine was an old $100 phone my mom bought me before I started college.

When we went out for dinner or movies, I always paid.

Household essentials, groceries, utility bills -- he never bothered with any of it.

If I showed even a hint of hesitation, he would immediately throw out that line:

"I put thirty thousand aside for you every month, and you're quibbling over these small amounts with me?"

This sentence was like a lock that cut off all my escape routes.

For three out of my four years in college, I dated him. For those three years, besides classes, I was always working part-time jobs, doing four jobs, to the point my period was irregular.

What was the point of this relationship?

That weekend, Ethan took me to a restaurant for dinner.

Soon after we sat down, we ran into two of Ethan's colleagues. We just joined tables.

Ethan was very generous, grabbing the menu and adding several dishes. We all ate happily.

When we were almost done, the waiter placed the bill on the table:

"Your table's total is six hundred thirty dollars."

A colleague was about to grab his phone to pay when Ethan stopped him.

He pushed the bill towards me, "This one's on me."

He said it was on him, but I was the one who paid.

His two colleagues didn't find anything wrong with this, because all of Ethan's colleagues knew that as soon as Ethan got paid each month, he'd transfer thirty thousand dollars to his girlfriend.

But my phone balance was only four hundred twenty dollars total right now, nowhere near enough.

Under the table, I tugged on Ethan's sleeve and whispered, "I don't have enough money..."

Ethan didn't even look up. "Stop it."

I didn't know what to do; my face slowly began to burn.

The waiter asked again, "Who will be paying?"

Ethan didn't answer.

One colleague chuckled, teasing me, "Come on, Hazel! Ethan's total salary is forty thousand, and thirty thousand goes to you. This meal is just pocket change for you, right?"

Another colleague chimed in, "Exactly, Hazel! Thirty thousand dollars! We're so envious. This meal is just pocket change for you!"

Everyone was waiting for me to pay. I felt like I was being roasted alive, my face beet red.

But I really had no money. I stood there, phone in hand, stiff and unsure what to do.

The waiter had waited too long, and his expression started to show impatience. He directly prompted me:

"Ma'am, the total is six hundred thirty. SnapChat or PayPal?"

The two colleagues' gazes turned unfriendly, and even customers at the next table started looking our way.