SofarLunar

"I endured this pain day after day, drowned in the ocean of tears that weren't allowed to leave my eyes. I held on for long, but they didn't love to see that, they stepped upon my head, content to watch me drown in the emotional mess they caused."

Seven relationships and all were doomed from the start. The same issues and the same outcome, all the girls he loved left him, cheated on him, stabbed him in the back. 

Was he hexed? Was he really the problem? Why did they never last? Chang Wu didn't know. All he knew was that, they were breaking his heart to smaller pieces every time they walked out of his life because he couldn't 'afford' them. 
 
He'd tried everything to the extent everyone called him a simp for women who wouldn't even do half of what he'd done for them. 'Why were all middle class women the same?' Why hadn't he met one that wouldn't push the burden of financial responsibilities on his shoulders. The more he thought of it, the more he bore hate, until he decided to give up on them, and aim for something higher. 


Dating a rich woman was his next step. As impossible as it sounded and difficult to achieve, he thought the woman on the magazine cover that caught his attention would actually love him, not because of money because she already had that. There were problems, he had to live falsely to catch her eye and watch out for potential threats to avoid the truth from getting exposed, but how long would he pretend to be the opposite of what he truly was? How long would he lie? How long would he continue to live in fear? And most importantly, how would he put an end to the facade without getting his dream woman hurt?

Why I hate Middle Class Women

Xin received a text from his girlfriend out of a blue while he was at the bar, and he suspected it was something serious. She didn't give him full details, but all she asked for was a suitable time where they could meet. She'd choose the place. A part of him was worried because she was supposed to be at work by the time. Something definitely wasn't right.

Once out of the subway, Xin navigated through the thick crowd. Gripping his phone to prevent it from being snatched away by pickpockets, he texted her.

"Where are you?" But she didn't reply in time.

His white sneakers struck the snow-covered sidewalk and his black overcoat descended to his knees.

He texted a new message "I'm have a grey beanie one and a Navy blue scarf around my neck. You should be able to spot me with that differentiating detail at least." He pressed send, but he still didn't get a text back.

Part VII