Chapter 2Love Not Charity

The next morning, a giant Hermès box was delivered to my dorm room.

My roommates let out a collective gasp.

“Oh my god, it’s the latest collection! Ava, Thomas is spoiling you rotten!”

“Seriously, I’m so full from all this public display of affection!”

Tucked inside was a card with Thomas’s elegant, flowing script.

“Cooling-off period. 144 hours left.”

My roommates buzzed around me, their eyes filled with envy. In their world, I was a princess cherished by the heir to a fortune, the undisputed winner in this game of love.

The irony was suffocating.

He thought money could fix anything, could erase any hurt, including my trampled dignity and broken heart.

I calmly took out my phone, snapped a picture of the bag that was still warm from its packaging, and opened a luxury resale app.

Title: [Guilt Gift from the Ex. Brand new, box opened once. Make an offer.]

Once it was posted, I sent the link to Chloe, asking her to keep an eye out for a serious buyer.

Her call came instantly.

“Ava, are you nuts? You’ll lose so much money selling it secondhand right after you got it!”

“It’s not like I’m ever going to use it,” I said, indifferent.

I cradled the phone on my shoulder as I dragged a pre-packed suitcase from the back of my closet.

“Chloe, I’m flying to England in five days. I got the full ride to Oxford.”

“What?”

The line went dead silent. I could picture her jaw hitting the floor.

“When did you even—”

“I applied a while ago. As a backup plan.”

I managed a small smile. It was probably the single best decision I had ever made for myself.

As soon as I hung up, a message from Thomas popped up.

“Did you get the gift? Why aren’t you answering? Don’t you like the color? I can have it exchanged if you want.”

I didn’t bother replying, just muted his chat.

I continued packing, methodically organizing my life into boxes and arranging for an international courier to pick them up.

Just as I sealed the last box, my mom called.

The moment I answered, her placating voice filled the line.

“Ava, dear, did you have a fight with Thomas? He called me, you know, he’s very upset.”

“Mom, we broke up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her voice shot up an octave. “Ava, how can you be so immature? Our family latching onto the Chases is the chance of a lifetime. It’s a blessing!”

“Don’t be so willful. A boy with Thomas’s background willing to bend over backward to please you is already a huge compliment. Don’t get arrogant and throw this all away!”

I took a deep breath, cutting her off.

“Mom, what if I don’t want this ‘blessing’?”

A long silence stretched over the line.

Then, my dad snatched the phone.

“You wouldn’t dare! Ava, we’ve worked our fingers to the bone to raise you, not for you to act like a spoiled brat! If you ruin this engagement, don’t bother coming home.”

Click.

He hung up.

I stood there in the middle of my messy dorm room, clutching my phone, and suddenly felt an incredible sense of release.

Fine.

Let it all be severed. Clean breaks were the best.

That evening, a confirmation email from Oxford University landed in my inbox.

I stared at the words for a long time before carefully typing out my acceptance.

The moment I hit send, a heavy weight lifted from my shoulders.

Finally, I was escaping.