After I humbly sent off the landlord who came to collect the long-overdue rent, my eyes once again landed on the entrance cabinet.

There was a small pink gift box that was delicately wrapped up in there. It was a gift that Mark Hanson had prepared for his childhood sweetheart, Terry Johnson. The gift was so expensive that it was worth two months of rent of our apartment.

Although our money situation was not good for the time being, he still insisted on giving the best present for his so-called "little sister". He did not even care that the money he used to buy it was the payment I had earned from working day and night.

I turned and looked at the young Master Hanson. The man was busy fiddling with his easel in the living room.

At that time, the landlord said before he left, echoed in my mind, "Young girl, I assume you are the same age as my daughter, so forgive me for saying this. You don't have to heed this old man's advice, but I'm concerned about you. I always see you leaving early in the morning and returning home late at night for work every single day, while your boyfriend stays at home all day long. Moreover, he has a temper too. Young girl, let me tell you. You are still young. You should not stay with a man who lives off a woman's hard work. The man is not reliable."

I acted as if I listened to the landlord's advice, after all, I was already in the wrong for not paying our rent on time and Mark had a few quarrels with others.

Unsurprisingly, those ten-minute exchanges left me mentally and physically drained. After all, besides pretending to hang on to the landlord's words, I had to make sure the stubborn and proud Young Master Hanson did not hear this, otherwise, his feelings would be hurt. 

Mark had lived as a wealthy young man for more than twenty years and he refused to compromise on anything in life. He insisted on living in an upscale apartment, eating and drinking fine gourmet and all the material that he used for painting had to be top-of-the-line quality. 

So, it was unsurprising that all my savings had long been depleted.

It was not like I had not tried to find a stable job but every time I sent a resume, no one gave any response. And after so many attempts, I finally realized it was all the Hanson Family doing. They deliberately were making things difficult for us.

Three months ago, Mark had a big fight with his father, the head of the Hanson Family, at work. He declared he wanted to pursue his pure artistic ideals independently, without using a single cent of his family’s money.

At that time, Mr. Hanson just asked me one thing, "Are you coming with him?"

I just nodded.

Mr. Hanson just smirked. "You're so young. Okay, we'll see. Well. Good luck."

Throughout it all, Mr. Hanson remained calm and collected, as if he were certain Mark’s act of rebellion would amount to nothing.

After I realized the truth, I stopped wasting my time and money to send out those resumes. I started to take various part-time jobs to support us.

I was so busy to the point that I was always in a state of exhaustion.

As I rubbed my throbbing temples, I looked again at the gift box that made me unable to afford the rent.

It seemed it always happened all the time. Young Master Hanson never saw how much I had to suffer to support both of us. All he cared about was treating his childhood sweetheart like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Even now, he spoke to me with a sour expression. “Finally, he’s gone. It’s just four hundred and fifty dollars, does he need to come knocking? It’s not like we won’t pay him! What’s for dinner?”

Without waiting for my response, he continued, “Let’s have sashimi! I’m sick of eating plain porridge and vegetables. We have been eating them lately.”

I pressed my lips together before I managed to speak calmly, "Mark, we are broke. We don't have any money left."

"How much can some sashimi cost," he replied while rubbing off the paint from his fingers. "I know. I'll eat less today."

Huh! Is that really the real issue here? Young Master Hanson, the problem is everything you eat is too expensive!

Before I could say anything, Mark suddenly grabbed my hand. "This is the last time, okay? I’ve been staying up late and working diligently on my paintings. Things have been hard for me."

I looked down at my hand, trapped in his grip and against my better judgment, I relented. "Alright."

After a moment, I added, "However, I need you to be careful with the money from now on. Things aren't like they used to be. We are broke and you should remember that rent money can't be used. It’s unnegotiable."

"Okay … okay. I know. You don't have to nag me about it." After he said that, he turned and walked away.

I talked again, "Mark, my part-time job can't cover our expenses any longer. Maybe we should …."

Mark suddenly turned around and cut out my words, "No! Absolutely not! Don't ever think about it! I'm not going back!" 

I was stunned. All I wanted to do was to suggest that he should not be so picky with his painting's buyers and maybe sell some of his paintings at a lower price.

Perhaps realizing that he had been too harsh to me, Mark softened his tone, "I'm asking you to be patient a little bit longer. We can't give up now. When I find the right buyer, things will turn around for us."

"I refuse to believe that I, Mark Hanson, can't make a name without the Hanson Family."

I just murmured my half-hearted agreement, while sighing inwardly.

Young Master Hanson might be out of being out of touch with reality and he might be living off my hard work, but the landlord was wrong about one thing though, Mark was not my boyfriend.

Although I had done so much and through so much struggle in this relationship, I could not give it any title.

I quickly ordered the sashimi to forget those depressing thought.

As I was about to change, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Probably because I had to work nonstop, I looked so exhausted and worn out.

Unable to hold back any longer, I blurted out, "Mark, why did you help me back then?"

We were not related in any way, yet he paid off nearly three hundred thousand in high-interest loans that I owed the loan shark without batting an eye.

At the time, he had casually said, "That amount of money isn’t even enough for me to last for three days. Don’t worry about it."

Mark paused for a moment as if he was trying to remember that incident. Then he answered with a casual tone, "Well, at that time, you looked like a pitiful stray dog."

A pang of sourness gripped my heart. He was so heartless. Even now, he even bothered to comfort me with a flattering lie.

As if I wanted to punish myself, I asked the question that had been lingering in my mind for so long, "So, what does this make us now?

Mark placed his hand on my shoulder and lowered his head slightly, "Listen. You know that I’m not in the right place to be thinking about relationships right now. You’re different from everyone else, but our relationship .... Ugh, can we talk about this later on? The most important thing right now is to hold onto our dreams."

Our dream? No! More like, yours!  I grumbled in my heart.

However, at this time, I finally realized.

Young Master Hanson might be clueless about the hardship of life, but when it came to the matter of heart, he was not stupid.

The fact that he could answer me like this meant that he had realized my pathetic feelings.

I shook off Mark's hand, stumbled back to my room and locked the door.

I ignored his question "What are you going to eat?" and stayed inside.

At that moment, I felt truly exhausted.

On the day I paid the rent, I had a high fever.

When I came back home in a daze, the first thing that I heard was Mark's excited voice, "Someone who knows what they’re talking about came by to ask about my paintings today. I think this one might actually sell …. Hold on! Why is your face so red?”

He quickly came over to feel my forehead. “You’ve got a fever! Come on, we’re going to the hospital right now!”

As he spoke, he grabbed my arm and started dragging me out the door.

I could not break free from his grip, so I forced myself to speak through the pain in my throat. “I just paid the rent. We don’t have money for the hospital. It's just a sore throat. I'll be fine.”

Mark stopped walking for a long time and turned around to face me.

For the first time, I saw a fleeting guilt in his eyes. I could not help but find this situation a bit funny.

Mark gently squeezed my wrist with a voice that was softer than I heard before he asked, "Then … do we have any money to buy you some medicine? I'll go and buy fever-reducing medicine for you."

I pulled out the last of my emergency cash from my wallet and handed it to him.

Mark took it without a word and headed out the door. Halfway to the door, he suddenly stopped, turned around and rushed back to hug me tightly. “Just hold on a little longer. We can’t give up now. Things will get better, I promise!”

“Okay.” Maybe it was because I was sick, I became a bit fragile and my eyes started to sting with tears.

Mark had never taken any initiative to take care of anyone before.

During those two days, I was bedridden with a fever, he clumsily made a porridge and fed me some medicine. This act of his made me have an illusion that I meant something to him.

It felt so real that I even had a bit of hope that I should not have.

After I recovered, I dragged my weak body to the kitchen and prepared Mark's favorite foods.

I planned to have a serious conversation with him about our future.

However, before I could say a word, Mark's phone chimed with an incoming message.

He checked it and after a few seconds, he slammed his fork onto the table.

“What’s wrong?” I asked quickly.

He did not answer but kept frowning as he scrolled through his phone.

By the time he finished reading, Mark stood up in a fury and threw his phone onto the table. “What a trashy company!”

The phone slid across the table, but it was close enough that I could see the main character in the article.

The article said that Sandra Lewis, the well-known idol, had returned to the country.

She was also Mark's childhood sweetheart. The girl that he loved but could never have.

The article reported how Sandra had been losing her resources to another rising star in the same field and her agency did nothing to help her.

I said dryly. "The entertainment news isn't always accurate. You shouldn't get too worked up over it."

“How can I not be upset?! Sandra isn’t like you. She’s never faced hardships like this. Why should she be bullied by this kind of person now?” he said sharply.

Hearing his statement, my head buzzed. Suddenly, I felt drained. I knew I was as much of a joke as the meal that I had prepared.

"No. It's not …. I wasn't talking about you. Don't take it personally." Mark reached out his hand across the table and grabbed my hand.

I forced myself to smile and drew back my hand. " Got it. Okay, I'm full. You can keep eating." 

I should have known I should not hold on to an impossible dream.