Alex was a buddy from college. Back then, my mom hustled extra hard to make ends meet, worried I'd run short. Not much of a scholar, but she cooked up a storm. She set up an ice jelly stand outside my university. Killer taste, spotless setup, always drew a crowd.
I was the it-girl at school—looks and brains. That rubbed some folks the wrong way. They couldn't touch me, so they dissed my mom instead.
They'd trash-talk her at the stall, spewing nonsense about "country folks craving city life."
Alex wasn't having any of it. He shooed them off and got his orphanage crew to watch over Mom.
He'd always say how he envied me for having a mom like mine.
We started hanging out, sharing meals, and yeah, fell hard for each other.
He promised when he made it big, he'd make sure we never had to deal with bullies again.
I thought we'd stick together, climb out of the gutter side by side, and be each other's rock.
But no, the minute he got a taste of cash, he started seeing himself as above the rest, running those pathetic 'poverty tests.'
I snagged a furnished apartment, almost as nice as a hotel. Moved in with just my suitcase—no fuss.