Beware the Heart Thief

How did Oliver and I even meet? It was through a painfully awkward chat app, where we were randomly matched.

He was a Canverlian aristocrat. His family had been breeding horses and hunting for three generations, and his estate was so massive that one could run a cross-country marathon on it.

I came from the countryside, where the backyard chicken coop was larger than the living room, and hens laid eggs to their personal background soundtrack.

I figured he would play along for two weeks at most, until the time difference ruined his sleep schedule and he ghosted. But no, he decided to go on pure romance mode instead.

While I crammed for my Canverlian proficiency exams, he sat on video calls acting as my private tutor. My pronunciation sounded like a glitching robot, but he corrected me word by word and insisted that even a simple "the" had to be perfect.

Even when we fought, he would sob and correct my grammar. "You used the wrong past tense again, babe."

Over the summer break, he would text me at 3:00 am on WhatsApp while I was in the countryside, gobbling watermelon slices.

"The chickens sound hungry, babe. They're making a lot of noise."

I nearly typed. "That's a rooster crowing. It's not hunger; it's a morning rhapsody."

Oliver might not understand everything I was saying, but he was attentive and thoughtful. Besides, the most ridiculous part was that he was shockingly loaded.

One day, I collapsed onto my bed in exhaustion and casually whined, "I don't want to work anymore. I wish I just had a husband who'd send me money every day."

He did not argue or call me greedy. Instead, all he did was send me money.

"Incoming transfer of 520,000 Canverlian dollars."

…

The notifications continued until there were 12 bank transfers in total.

Utterly shocked, I hopped to my feet and screamed, "Stop! Stop! Stop! I was just joking! Stop sending me money!"

He solemnly replied, "My wallet's about to burst, so could you help me spend my money? I'll only understand why I earn money if you're willing to use it."

I stared at the figure and counted the digits over and over until my lips curled up into a grin before I could stop it. Then, I snapped back to reality.

Heavens… Were those Canverlian dollars?

I was not a gold digger, but that sheer amount of money was enough to boil my brain.

I was lazy, greedy, and loved taking advantage of him. Honestly, these Canverlian dollars were the only thing that kept this relationship alive for over a year, but now, Oliver was asking to meet in person.

I was screwed. My four-month student exchange application for Canverly was about to be approved, and if I dragged this out any longer, I would soon be in Canverly and literally be standing at his doorstep. How was I supposed to escape then?

…

A chance to break up fell right into my lap by accident.

On one sleep-deprived afternoon, I wanted to text Oliver after our video call. "I'm going to sleep for an hour or so."

My finger slipped, and I ended up typing, "I'm going to sleep with a hottie for an hour or so."

Oliver did not understand how Crisean typing worked, so the idea of a typo never crossed his mind. He began firebombing my phone with messages like a crazed beagle.

"One lover at home and another abroad, huh? Is this why you won't let me come over? Are you afraid I'll run into him?

"What does a college student have that I don't?

"Please don't go to other men. I'm flying over right now, so just wait for me, alright?

"Please don't sleep with him. I'll literally cry.

"Babe, are you listening? I'll seriously cry for you.

"No! Babe! My heart's broken!

"I feel old now. You're letting me expire and making my heart sick.

"Can we just create a three-person group chat? You guys can talk, while I won't say anything and just watch; how about that?

"Why aren't you answering, babe? Is that guy not letting you use your phone?"

I had my phone on silent mode and slept for more than an hour. When I woke up to a screen full of voice notes, I bolted upright and replied with a single voice message.

"Let's break up."

The crybaby immediately spiraled again, so I decided that this was the perfect chance to end things.

Oliver's video call came in almost three seconds later.

"What's going on? Why are you breaking up? Did he talk you into this?

"I suddenly don't mind if you have another lover back home, but just don't break up with me, alright?"

His voice was urgent, and his dark brows were tight with worry.

I stared at his ridiculously handsome face on the screen and gritted my teeth.

Short-term pain was better than long-term agony, and no matter how good-looking Oliver was, he was only meant to be a passing character in my life.