I used every vicious method to hurt him.
During that time, Alex really humbled himself to the extreme. He cut his wrist. He kowtowed. Countless times, with red-rimmed eyes, he asked me why.
And I just kept telling him, cold as ice, "Because I don't love you anymore."
A man who had never been afraid of anything—for the first time in his life, he cried. He was like a child, sobbing, begging me not to leave. He said he'd get proper treatment, find proper work. He'd give me every cent he earned. He only begged me not to leave.
"Josephine, I won't live much longer, I won't live much longer!"
"Just treat it as charity—can you lie to me? Please?"
"I still have a little money stashed at the bank. The password is your birthday."
"I'll give you everything I have—can't you just stay with me two more days? Just two days…"
Alex trampled his own dignity underfoot. He humbled himself to the dust. He didn't even ask me to love him again. He only asked that in the final days of his life, I would look at him one more time.
I lied to him.
I pretended to agree to get back together. And just as hope flickered back to life in his eyes, I stole all his money.
I remember exactly how much was in that account: $35,800.
It was what Alex had saved to be my dowry. He knew I had no parents, no family to prepare these things for me. He didn't want me to lose face when the time came to marry. So he'd asked around everywhere, learned the customs of my hometown, and scraped together a proper dowry fund.
$35,800—I took every last cent.
I didn't even leave him that beat-up motorcycle.
When Alex learned the truth, he vomited blood in the hospital and collapsed on the spot. His boys went crazy, searching the whole country for me. Someone even put out a bounty. They swore they'd cut me into a thousand pieces to avenge him.
But whether it was Alex or anyone else—none of them found me.
Because I was lying in a hospital bed, preparing for the heart surgery that was about to come.
I broke Alex's heart completely.
I sold myself.
But the money from selling myself—I used it to extend his life.
I never told him that our matching had been a perfect success. Just like I never told him the real reason I left.
Fate finally favored this pitiful man.
Alex's surgery went smoothly. Not only did he recover quickly, but through it, he found the family he'd been separated from for years. Only then did everyone learn that this gifted little punk from the streets was actually blood of the wealthy Harding family, abandoned and left outside.
Alex returned to his roots. After all that bitterness, sweetness came. He moved out of Mongkok Tower and received the best medical care money could buy. He inherited the family business and got engaged to a young lady from another prominent family. His life kept getting better. His name appeared constantly on financial news channels.
And I got the cheapest artificial heart.
Curled up here, quietly waiting for life to fade away.
Seven years passed in the blink of an eye.
Even I didn't expect that at the end of my life, I'd see Alex again.
…
The roar of his sports car shattered my memories.
When I looked up, his figure had already vanished into the swirling dust.
I patted myself off and picked up the scattered change from the ground.
Then I went back to that shabby rental room.
Maybe Alex has already forgotten.
