Always pretending. Dating as a cover to squeeze luxury goods out of boyfriends, then flipping them for cash.
But those sweet moments from the past few days kept replaying in my head—the way she said she thought of me in everything. I couldn't bring myself to believe it.
I had to find her. I needed answers.
I bombarded her with texts and calls. Nothing. Radio silence.
Finally, I switched to a different number. Only then did she pick up.
My voice came out sharper than I intended. "Sophie, why are you breaking up with me? Just tell me the reason."
She sounded like I was wasting her time.
"Do I really need to spell it out?"
"I stayed up all night thinking about it. I asked you to buy me one bag and you hemmed and hawed like it was going to kill you. What kind of future would I have with someone like that?"
I exhaled slowly. So that was it. A reason I could fix.
I apologized, over and over. Promised I'd buy her the same bag in white if she'd just calm down.
She laughed—cold, mocking.
"What are you even talking about? There are only ten of those bags in the entire world. What, you're going to track down some high-end knockoff to fool me?"
"Or wait—is this about the bag? Now that I'm dumping you, you actually want it back?"
"Fine. Come get it then. You pathetic loser."
"That's not—" I scrambled to explain. "Sophie, I gave it to you. I'm not asking for it back."
"I just think there's been a misunderstanding. Can we at least talk face-to-face?"
My pleading got me nothing but ice.
"John, can we just end this with some dignity?"
"Don't make me walk away thinking you're nothing but a pathetic, disgusting loser."
Click.
Anxiety clawed at my chest. This relationship—I'd fought so hard for it. How could it just end like this, with nothing resolved?
I grabbed my bike and rode to find her. I needed answers.
That's when I passed a secondhand luxury shop—and spotted the exact bag I'd given her yesterday, displayed front and center.
My girlfriend was inside, chatting with the owner, negotiating the price.
Rage flooded through me. The woman I'd given my heart to had been playing me the whole time.
I shoved the door open, demanding an explanation.
But the owner's face lit up when he saw me. He rushed over, practically bowing.
"Mr. Weiss! What brings you here in person? Whatever catches your eye, I can have it delivered to your home. You really didn't need to trouble yourself."
Sophie froze. "Mr. Weiss? Which Mr. Weiss?"
The owner leaned toward her, lowering his voice. "Which one do you think? Mr. Weiss from Baoli Department Store."
Her jaw dropped. "You're saying he's the president of Baoli Department Store?"
"You just got back to the States, so you wouldn't know. Mr. Weiss is one of the most respected entrepreneurs in the area…"
She stared at me, completely stunned.
