My Fake Poor Girlfriend

As Wren went to take a shower, the livestream was also about to end, and the last thing the streamer said was, “When she showers, we’re going to video call. I’ll show you guys her amazing tiny waist in a bit!”

Less than five minutes later, he posted an update.

Water droplets clung to a woman’s slender waist. Though her face wasn’t shown, the tiles behind her were unmistakably from our bathroom. In the storage basket sat the cheap shampoo and soap I had bought.

It was Wren.

At this very moment, in the small place we rented, she was showering while video calling the man she was keeping.

The sound of running water never stopped. I closed my eyes, trying to tell myself not to panic, to stay calm and think it through.

However, the truth was right there. There was nothing to analyze.

Reopening my eyes, I saw the streamer, Matt, reply to a top comment.

[You’re just a kept pretty boy showing off. She has a boyfriend. No matter what you say, you’re the third party.]

He replied: [She’s just raising that poor guy like a pet. He has a title, but the one she loves is me. Believe it or not, if I send one message, she’ll leave her boyfriend’s place and come running to me immediately.]

The next second, the bathroom door opened. Wren, in her nightdress, hurried out.

“Aran, something urgent came up. I need to go out for a bit…”

My nerves snapped tight. I grabbed her hand.

“Wren, I’ll come with you.”

…

Her back stiffened slightly. Then she gently pulled her hand away.

“No need. It’s cold outside.”

I refused to give up and grabbed her again, staring at the red mark on her collarbone, my voice trembling.

“What happened here?”

She lowered her head to look. The corner of her eye twitched.

“Probably got bitten by a bug while washing dishes. I’m heading out. Go to sleep early.”

All the strength drained from me.

On the livestream, someone asked if the black stud earrings Matt wore were a gift from his sugar mommy.

He tilted his head back and laughed, clearly pleased.

“No. When we were going at it, she got too excited and bit my earlobe. This is her compensation.

“But I didn’t go easy on her either. I left a mark right here on her. I used full force, too. It won’t fade for at least three days.”

The place he pointed to was the collarbone.

As Wren left, I stood alone in the entryway, rubbing my fingertips hard, as if trying to scrape off a layer of skin.

After all this time, I only realized it now.

Her fingers were slender and smooth, without a single crack. How could they belong to someone who washed dishes all day?

At three in the morning, Matt updated again.

[See? I told you she loves me.]

In the photo, his long arm was wrapped around a petite girl, with a smirk on his lips.

Her face was covered with an emoji, but the nightdress she wore was one I had bought. I had watched her put it on before she left.

I pressed my lips together and zoomed in on the photo. At the head of the bed hung a white shirt.

On the chest of that shirt were the letters “WY”. Last year, I had sewn it myself as a birthday gift for Wren.

She treasured it, saying she would only wear it on the day we registered our marriage.

Now, it was hanging in the villa of the man she was keeping.

That night, I stayed awake until dawn, then dragged myself to work like a walking corpse.

After work, I followed my usual routine and went to deliver food.

Wren was already back when I got home at eleven.

Two boxed meals were on the table, and she had changed into her loungewear.

“The barbecue place had several set meals left over. I begged the boss for them. The rest are in the fridge.

“This way we can save on food for two days and still eat enough.”

I walked to the table in silence, looking at the greasy boxed barbecue meals.

In my mind, I could hear Matt bragging about how Wren had brought a French chef to the villa today to cook him an “ordinary lunch” right in front of him.

A sour feeling rose in my stomach. I turned and went straight to the bedroom.

“I’m tired. You eat.”

Not long after I lay down, Wren slipped into my arms and let out a soft sigh.

“Aran, I’m sorry. Because of my debt, you’ve had to suffer so much.”

I murmured a vague “Mm”.

She continued, “The day after tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. Since we don’t have enough money for two tickets, you should go. I’ll stay here and wait for you to return.”