Chapter 4Love Not Charity

I turned and gave him one last, cold look.

His arm froze in mid-air. Slowly, he let it fall.

Without another glance back, I walked out of that suffocating cage.

The late-night air was frigid, the wind stinging my cheeks as I walked alone down the empty street. But my mind was a reel of memories, playing back my time with Thomas against my will.

I first met him at the art studio where I worked part-time. A difficult customer was tearing apart one of my paintings when Thomas appeared out of nowhere, a knight in shining armor who defused the situation with a few sharp words. He wore a crisp white shirt and stood bathed in light, looking like a prince.

When he pursued me, he said he was tired of the shallow, artificial socialites in his circle. He said he loved how real and genuine I was.

He called me the most unique girl he’d ever met.

And I believed him.

My family was middle-class, my parents ordinary professionals. Our worlds were galaxies apart. But I truly believed our love was real, a connection of souls that transcended class.

Then Rena appeared.

She was fiercely independent, scornful of wealth and power, and branded anyone close to Thomas as a corporate lackey—especially me, his girlfriend.

The first time we went on a date after we got together, we were at a small café near campus. I was sketching him when Rena, wearing a waitress uniform, came over with our coffee. She shot me a contemptuous look and muttered, “Climbing the social ladder and forgetting where you came from. Disgusting.”

Thomas wasn't having it. He slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet. “What did you just say?”