Love and Hate Drift Far Apart

And Ariana had never looked so passionate and wild in the three years I'd known her. As if sensing something, she suddenly looked toward the camera, quickly threw her coat over Lance and grabbed a nearby skull prop to hurl at it, "Get lost! You think you deserve to see Lance? If you keep staring, I'll gouge out your eyes!" The screen instantly turned to static and someone awkwardly rubbed their nose, "It's so dark in there and she covered Lance so tightly, we can't see anything. Ariana's seriously freaking out." "A few days ago, I joked with her about letting the girls take a peek at Ernest's body and she just laughed and nodded. Looks like Lance is really her darling, he gets the VIP treatment." I clenched my fists tightly, only to slowly loosen them in defeat. Turns out, when people are faced with something they don't want to believe, their first reaction isn't anger, it's denial. Even after my manager reminded me three times that I could take off my makeup and leave, I stubbornly stood there. I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe the woman they were talking about, the one who toyed with others' feelings, was the same woman I'd loved for three years. An hour later, she walked out of the haunted house, arm in arm with Lance. Under the bright lights, Ariana's face looked so clear and beautiful and it completely shattered my self-deception. There were kiss marks all over Lance's neck. When he saw the cut on my forehead, he smiled sheepishly and said, "Bro, my girlfriend's got a bit of a temper. Sorry about earlier, don't take it personally. She just gets really possessive over me." He continued, "Ariana, aren't you gonna compensate the guy?" Ariana locked eyes with me, I thought she recognized me. I hoped she'd explain. Even if she denied being my girlfriend, anything would be better than feeling like a joke. But she just pulled out a checkbook, scribbled down a few numbers, tossed it at my feet and coldly said, "Keep your mouth shut. If I find out you're spreading rumors and ruining Lance's reputation, I won't let you off." After three years together, I could recognize her silhouette in the dark without a doubt. But now, standing right in front of her, with only some makeup on, she only cared about warning me not to harm her 'boyfriend's' reputation. Did she really not recognize me, or had she just never cared to? Ariana helped Lance into the Bentley, gently fastened his seatbelt, then drove off. She never looked at me again. Watching that limited-edition Rolls-Royce with an A-plate drive away, a wave of bitterness welled up in me. We had no money for a car because we were always saving to pay off debt and cover her mother's medical bills. We only had a second-hand electric scooter. Countless times, when a luxury car passed by with a handsome man inside, Ariana would point and say, "Ernest, just wait. One day, I'll get you into a car like that. The passenger seat is only for you." Back then, I thought even if I spent my whole life riding a scooter, as long as I had her promise, I was the happiest man alive. But now, she really did have a luxury car, only the man in the passenger seat wasn't me. After taking off my makeup and going home, I pulled out my phone and looked at a photo of Ariana's mother while staring at the check. The amount on it was enough to cover her mother's medical bills for an entire year. Ariana, what other secrets are you hiding from me? There was a sound at the door. I quickly hid the check. Ariana said, "Ernest, I got paid from my part-time job. I bought your favorite strawberries. Come have some."

When Ariana saw the cut on my forehead, the smile on her face froze. She immediately rushed over, eyes full of concern, "What happened? Does it hurt?" I forced a smile, "Just scraped it accidentally, it's nothing. Strawberries are so expensive, why waste money?" She said, "How could this be a waste? Ernest, if I could, I'd give you all the best things in the world. You've already suffered enough being with me. I work hard just to give my darling a good life." I didn't respond, her sweet words were as moving as ever. But paired with the scent of Lance's cologne on her, it all felt absurd. Ariana didn't notice anything unusual and casually glanced at my phone, then chuckled, "Other guys are into pretty girls, but you're looking at sick old lady? So old and ugly." I froze, "You don't recognize her?" Ariana looked confused, "Nope. Is she one of your relatives? Then we should bring a gift and visit her sometime." "Oh, right, Ernest, I've got a part-time job tonight, I need to head out now, can't stay for dinner. Be good and wait at home." She ruffled my hair, got dressed and left. But I was left frozen in place, stunned by what she said. She was the one who took me to the hospital, pointed at that photo of the unconscious old lady and told me with a sorrowful look that it was her mother. But now she said she didn't know her? I secretly followed her in a taxi. I saw her enter a luxury mall, change into a dress worth tens of thousands, then head to a hotel. From the lobby, I saw Lance in a tailored suit, clinging playfully to an elegant and regal-looking lady. That woman's features somewhat resembled Ariana's and as Ariana approached her and handed over a gift, she said, "Mom, your daughter wishes you a happy birthday." A powerful sense of absurdity washed over me, I didn't know whether to feel angry or heartbroken. Back then, Ariana was worn out by medical bills and debt, constantly worried about her mother's condition, eyes always filled with sorrow. I felt sorry for her and decided to share the burden. For three years, I worked non-stop, only eating and sleeping when I had to. As soon as my paycheck arrived, I'd send it to her. I often starved because I had no money left for food, surviving on water. I fainted several times at work but didn't even dare go to the hospital. And now I learned, that so-called 'critically ill mother' was just a lie she made up. Her sorrow came only from Lance going abroad. Then what about the hunger I endured, the sweat I poured out, what were those worth? It was laughable. Halfway through the banquet, Mrs. Thomas suddenly made an announcement, "Thank you all for coming to this old lady's birthday party. I also have a happy piece of news to share. My daughter Ariana and Lance Basinger have been childhood sweethearts and are a perfect match. Now that Lance is back, we'll hold their engagement party in three days. I hope to see everyone there." Guests immediately offered congratulations, but someone asked with doubt, "Didn't I hear Ariana already has a boyfriend?" Mrs. Thomas's face darkened and she snorted, "Some low-born pauper dares dream of marrying into the Thomas Family? My daughter was just playing around with him. He really thought a wild duck could become a phoenix? He should take a good look at himself." Her mother said again, "Ariana, what do you say?" Ariana stayed silent for a moment, then smiled faintly, "Mother is right. He is just a wild duck. Let's do as you say."

I looked up in shock and saw Lance smiling sweetly as he pulled her into his arms. Ariana took out the massive diamond ring she had prepared in advance and slipped it onto his ring finger, then lovingly kissed his fingertip amid the cheers of the guests. I had seen that ring on TV a few days ago, it was worth two million. I looked down at the cheap, now-yellowing ring on my own hand. It was a gift from Ariana on our one-year anniversary. It wasn't expensive, just a few hundred dollars, but back then I was as happy as a fool. Even though it wasn't even pure silver and had already faded badly, I couldn't bear to take it off. I hid in a corner, like a shameful voyeur, watching them hold hands and toast with the guests. The toasts were meant for both of them, but Ariana took every glass on Lance's behalf, then handed him a cup of juice, saying gently, "You're allergic to alcohol, drink this." Lance looked like a pampered little prince, shy and happy as he hugged her shoulders, "Ariana, you're the best." Ariana had a weak stomach. Back then, if she had a drinking engagement, I was the one who drank for her. Even if it meant drinking until I bled from my stomach, I wouldn't let her have a single drop. I protected her that carefully for three years. But now, to protect another man, she didn't even care about her own health. Ariana seemed truly happy today, I had never seen her drink this much. Very soon, she was drunk and Lance helped her upstairs to a guest room. I knew that leaving at this point was the wise choice, but before I realized it, I was already standing outside their room. The door wasn't fully closed. From inside came sounds that made one blush. With trembling hands, I called Ariana. It took over ten seconds for her to pick up. Her voice was hoarse, her breathing heavy, "Ernest, what's wrong?" "Ariana, let's get married," I said through tears. "I don't need a dowry. I'll work hard and support you. Come back now and let's go register our marriage, okay?" I knew how pathetic and shameless I sounded, but love sometimes makes people throw away their dignity. As long as you stop now. As long as you come out. As long as you come back to me. I can pretend none of this ever happened. Ariana paused, then laughed helplessly, "Silly, why are you crying? I never said I wouldn't marry you." She continued, "But my mother is still in the hospital. I'm not in the mood to get married right now. I don't want you to shoulder everything alone. Once she's better, once I've earned more money, we'll buy a house and a car and have a grand wedding. Be good and wait a little longer, okay?" "My part-time job will keep me busy late tonight, so I won't be coming back. Lock the door and wait for me. I'll bring you something tasty." She suddenly let out a muffled gasp and hung up quickly. At the same time, the sounds from the room grew louder and more unbearable. I numbly lowered my phone, letting my tears fall freely. On the way home, a torrential downpour began. Rain hit my face, only to be replaced again and again by tears. I suddenly felt exhausted. My head grew heavier and heavier. Before I lost consciousness and collapsed, I thought ... Ariana, I won't wait for you anymore. When I opened my eyes again, it was the evening of the third day. I was lying in a hospital bed. A nurse told me it was a kind passerby who brought me in. I opened my phone. Ariana hadn't sent me a single message. In the past, no matter how busy she was, she would always text goodnight and remind me to eat breakfast. The nurses whispered while looking at their phones, full of envy in their tone.

"Did you hear? The only daughter of the Bicelar Group is getting engaged and her fiancé is the son of the Basinger Family. Miss Thomas has liked Mr. Basinger since childhood. Last night, she even bought all the fireworks in the city to propose to him." "Not just that! There was also a drone show, must've been over a thousand drones. I heard Miss Thomas designed the whole performance for Mr. Basinger herself. I'm so jealous." I stood frozen in place, dazed, when my phone rang, it was the manager from another part-time job calling, "Ernest, there's a client tonight throwing a bachelor party. They want a mascot performance and the pay's good. You said you needed money, right? I personally vouched for you, so don't let me down." I wanted to refuse, but this manager had always been good to me. He always thought of me first when jobs came up and I didn't want to make things hard for him, so I agreed. Besides, I had no intention of using Ariana's check and I had already given her all my savings. I still needed to survive. I used the money I earned from that escape room gig to pay the hospital bill. It was the first time in three years I had spent money on myself. After all, Ariana no longer needed my petty scraps. I gave a bitter smile. Well then, Ariana's game of 'princess-turned-beggar' was over. Time for her to return to the man she loved. They were the real match, equal in status and looks. We were never from the same world to begin with. Those past three years, I'd treat them as a bitter but sweet dream. Now that I had woken up, it was time we returned to our rightful places. But I never expected that the client throwing the bachelor party would be Lance Basinger. In the private room, besides Lance, there were other wealthy heiresses and young heiress, all looking at me with contempt. Lance arrogantly threw a set of clothes at my feet, "I heard from your manager that you’re the best at entertaining guests. Then put this on and make my friends happy." It was a clown outfit, but a strange one. The fabric was so skimpy it barely covered anything. I replied politely, "Mr. Basinger, this doesn't comply with our work policy. I've prepared a cat costume and can perform magic tricks for you and your guests." The next second, a crisp slap landed hard on my face, it felt burned. Lance, who was so generous and considerate just days ago, now sneered coldly, "What a joke. In your line of work, the client is the king. If you won't change, then I'll assume your manager deceived me and his place can kiss its business goodbye." For people like them, ruining a small business was as easy as lifting a finger. I couldn't drag the manager down with me. Clenching my teeth, I picked up the clown costume and began putting it on. But Lance said lazily, "Wait. Don't you have any professionalism? Take off all your clothes first, right in front of us. So we know you won't run." At that, the men on the sofa stared at me with disgusting, lecherous eyes. If I still couldn't tell that Lance was deliberately humiliating me, then I really was a fool. "Sorry, I can't fulfill your request. I don't want the pay either. Please find someone else, Mr. Basinger." I turned to leave, but two men held me down firmly. One of them kicked my knee hard. The pain made me collapse to the floor. Lance walked over and slapped me a dozen times. Then he mocked, "Now that's more like it. People like you, pathetic and poor, should know your place on your knees." He grabbed my hair and forced me to look up at him, "So she told you her mom was sick in bed? That she was deep in debt, right? That was all a lie to trick a fool like you. And you actually fell for it, what a devoted little lapdog."

He mocked me, "You were just some random gigolo she used to make me jealous and you had the nerve to call her, asking her to marry you? What do you think you are?" "The hundreds of thousands you transferred to her over the past three years, she used it all to please me. Every time I replied to one of her messages, she'd send me a hundred thousand dollars in an instant. But it was never enough. Just a few messages and it'd all be gone, so Ariana had to dig into her own pocket. How can you be such a useless lapdog?" "Did you seduce Ariana into sleeping with you using that cheap body of yours? Then tonight, I'll make sure you seduce to your heart's content. My friends here are more than enough to satisfy you. Strip him!" They started violently tearing at my clothes. I struggled with all my strength. Lance, annoyed by the noise, grabbed a wine bottle and smashed it over my head. A hot stream flowed down my forehead, blurring my vision and dizziness washed over me. Just as the fabric ripped, the door was kicked open. "What are you doing?" Ariana barged in and shoved them aside, trying to help me up. But I pushed her away. I looked at her expensive designer gown and let out a bitter laugh, "Ariana, are you enjoying messing with me?" "I didn't …" she stuttered. I said, "At this time of day, shouldn't you be working at McDonald? What kind of McDonald worker wears a gown worth hundreds of thousands? That two hundred dollars daily wage wouldn't even buy a single thread off that dress." She was speechless for a moment. Lance sneered, "Impressive eye. So, now that you know Ariana is rich, you can't wait to get a piece, huh? I knew it, there's no such thing as someone willing to be a lapdog for nothing. You must've known who she was all along, clinging to her shamelessly, dreaming of turning from a mutt into a phoenix. Pathetic." Fury and despair surged inside me. All I ever did was love someone. All I wanted was to ease her burdens. I never played with anyone's heart. So why was I being humiliated like this? I couldn't hold it in anymore. I slapped Lance across the face. Ariana instantly panicked and shoved me away, throwing her arms protectively around the tearful Lance, "Ernest, are you crazy? How could you hit someone?" I laughed in disbelief and pointed at my own head, "He smashed a bottle on my skull. I just gave him a slap and this is what worries you?" "Ariana, have you had enough of this little 'princess-turned-beggar' game? We're done." I turned to leave. She instinctively chased after me and grabbed my wrist, "Ernest, don't go. I …" Lance quickly whined, "Ariana, you're already carrying my child. Your mom's waiting at home to celebrate with us." Ariana's eyes flickered. After a long moment of hesitation, she let go of my hand. "Ernest, this isn't the time to fight. Go home and wait for me. I'll explain everything tomorrow." Then she turned and walked away, hand in hand with Lance. I looked at her back and gave a helpless smile. Tomorrow? Tomorrow is your engagement party. Oh wait ... You're already pregnant with someone else's child. Why bother with an engagement? You might as well go straight to the marriage registry. My manager sent me a message: [Ernest, the client was very satisfied with your performance. Here's your payment.] The transferred amount was quite generous. Lance really was generous. Ariana's messages came one after another: [Ernest, things aren't what you think. Once I'm done with all of this, I'll explain everything to you. Just wait a little longer, okay?] I had already waited three years. I didn't want to wait anymore. The clock struck midnight. Today was our fourth anniversary. But she was going to marrying another man. I sent her one last message: [Ariana, congratulations on your engagement.] The next second, her call came in.