The Bet

Gerald instantly dashed to the side and started puking.

I remained where I was, stiff and frozen. My limbs refused to obey me like they were not attached to me. The stench of sweat clinging to me seemed magnified to my senses, constantly provoking my mind.

All I could do was awkwardly rub my hands against my uniform in an attempt to wipe off the sweat.

However, my uniform was dusty and also soaked in sweat. I was practically covered in grime.

I had forgotten about how I always made sure to shower and change before heading home so that Gerald never found out I was doing manual labor.

He never once knew that I was part of the group of people he looked down on.

Gerald arrived home before I did.

As he sprawled out on the couch, he was no longer dressed in the suit he wore in the bar. Instead, he was wearing the cheap T-shirt I bought for him off the internet. All traces of his wealth and status were gone.

His arms hung low with his phone clutched in one hand.

When he heard the door open, he opened his eyes.

He called me "babe".

The great Mr. Peterson called me "babe".

No one might ever believe me if I said that.

I focused my attention on his face out of the desire to see guilt in his eyes. However, I didn't even catch a sliver of it flickering in his eyes.

He truly was a fantastic actor.

I placed the bag of bone-in meat and bundle of coriander in the kitchen before composing myself and saying with a smile, "It's very late. Let's turn in early."

Gerald got up from the couch and walked over to stand in the kitchen doorway.

He did not move any closer and just crossed his arms before his chest, occasionally pinching his nose.

I had my back turned to him as I washed my hands. The entire time, I was wondering if I still stank of sweat.

"Babe, didn't you make the stew? I told you I wanted it.

"You even bought the meat for it. Why didn't you come home earlier to make it?"

When drunk, Gerald was quite childish and would throw tantrums.

I usually did whatever he wanted, standing by the stove to make the hangover stew he wanted no matter how late it was. I would even wash and finely chop the coriander into garnish for the stew.

Then, I would spend my time washing my hands over and over again.

I detested the scent of coriander.

However, I did not grumble or complain back then. Still, I would always wonder why people liked coriander in their stews.

Due to the combination of my lack of response and his guilt, he surprisingly did not throw a temper tantrum. "You're right, though. It is too late. Go take a shower.

"You know, when my dinner was done, I met someone who stank of sweat. They were so disgusting that I puked.

"Babe, my head hurts. Can you massage it later?"

The tap continued to run.

However, my hands did not move at all.

It was a long moment before I eventually turned the tap off. "Okay."

Gerald embraced me from behind and buried his face into my neck while we were in bed, taking a deep breath. "Babe, you smell so nice."

The memory of how he started puking when I got close to him earlier flashed through my mind. I gently pushed him away.

"Gerald, do you have something you want to tell me?"

I stared into his deceptive eyes.

For a moment, he froze in confusion. Soon, he snapped back to reality.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Babe, I might have to leave for two weeks on another business trip."

"A business trip?"

Gerald had just started this job, yet he had been on business trips several times now.

I told him not to exhaust himself as everything would get better.

However, he told me, "Babe, I get a bonus for going on business trips. I don't want you to work multiple jobs."

'Lies.'

'Liar.'

I closed my eyes as I repeatedly thought that.

After he turned off the lights, I said, "Go then."

"You have to think of me."

He whispered into my ear.

When I got up the next day, he was already gone. I nearly thought everything was just a dream.

"Why do you ask that?"

Cissy's face was caked in exquisite makeup. She spoke with a casual and nonchalant air as she held a cigarette between her fingers. "I'm curious."

I dusted off my hands. With how dirty my face was, it was like we belonged to two different worlds.

After last night, I spent a long time pondering what the people in the room had meant by the bet.

It was likely a game between members of high society.

I did not know anyone who was part of high society, so I resorted to asking Cissy as she interacted most with them.

Cissy let out a cryptic laugh.

"That bet... It's a game among the rich. I only know the basics of it. Mr. Peterson lost a game, so his friend dared him. He would pursue a random poor commoner girl as a poor man. Once they started dating, he had to rely on her for financial support.

"Then, out of nowhere, he will come clean to her, saying stuff like 'Haha, I'm actually so-and-so. All the money you've spent on me the entire time isn't even as much as I spend in a week. Now, you know the difference between us. Here's a card as compensation.

"'Now, scram.'"

I could see envy swirling in Cissy's eyes.

"If I were that woman, I would take that card and leave. If the money inside the account is high enough, I would continue to care for him.

"After all, money is everything."

I had no idea what made that statement feel funny to me.

Still, I suddenly burst out into laughter.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

Cissy stared at me like I was a weirdo. "What is it, Wendy? Don't laugh at me. Everyone here has a story, right?"

She took a deep drag of her cigarette before releasing a cloud of smoke that obscured her face from my view.

"Money is the most important thing in the world."

I finally stopped laughing. As I wiped my tears away, I shook my head.

Then, I remembered the overwhelming debt that came from my mother's death overshadowing my life. I eventually nodded. "You're right."

In actual fact, that was what I thought before Gerald appeared in my life.

I studied, worked part-time, studied more, and struggled to earn more money.

I was constantly on the go, as if my entire life was already laid out before me.

That was until one day when I was handing out flyers. Gerald intentionally walked past me over twenty times and accepted over twenty of my fliers. In the end, he handed me a bottle of water.

His white teeth sparkled as he smiled. "I was going to buy cold water for you. Then, I remembered hearing how it's not good for women to drink too much icy water."

He twisted the cap off the bottle before handing it to me as he jokingly said, "You won't look down on it, will you?"

Back then, I was drenched in sweat and felt like I could drink a whole bucket's worth of water in one go. What was there to look down on?

"Thanks."

That was my reply.

Back then, I thought he was a great man. Now, everything we had felt like a terrible joke at my expense.

Since our meeting was built on the bet, there was no need for me to cling to something that cheap.

'Let's break up.'

I paused and slowly deleted the message I typed out.

Cissy's words rang in my mind. Money was the most important thing in the world.

Just as I hesitated, a pop-up notification appeared on my screen with a headline.

'Peterson Group heir splurges on a private shopping trip with sister.'

I never read articles like it, but something made me click on it this time.