But when I saw the look of disgust on Lawson's face, my smile froze.
Lawson was a year older than me. When I first started university, the upperclassmen rushed to help me with my luggage, all except Lawson, who stood aside with a cool indifference.
I noticed he was different from the rest.
After spending six months together, I realized I had feelings for him and confessed.
To my surprise, he moved past his previous aloofness and agreed to date me.
During our relationship, he was attentive and sweet, like any guy in the throes of new love.
But now, he was looking at me with such cold, contemptuous eyes as if I had committed a heinous crime.
I looked at Lawson, bewildered. Before I could ask what was wrong, he sneered and said in a mocking tone, "Lillian, I thought you were some rich girl, but it turns out it's all an act. You're even willing to sell yourself for money. I really misjudged you. I thought you were a pure and kind girl, but I guess I was blind. You've let me down."
Hearing those words, I almost laughed.
"Materialistic? How am I materialistic?
"If I were materialistic, would I even be with you?"
Though I had feelings for Lawson, Elodie had always disapproved of our relationship because Lawson came from a poor background. She wasn't being snobbish but rather worried that someone from a humble origin might not meet my expectations later on.
Despite her warnings, I was so infatuated that I insisted on being with him.
To preserve his pride, I paid for almost everything during our dates.
In the month we'd been together, I'd only had a cup of lemonade he bought and one meal from a street vendor, totaling fifty bucks.
His birthday gift to me was a handmade craft from a DIY kit he bought online.
At the time, I didn't see anything wrong with it. I was just touched by Lawson's efforts.
Although he was poor, he was ambitious and hardworking. I believed he'd have everything I had eventually, just not yet.
I never expected that the words my friend often joked about would turn out to be true. "Spending money on a man? Bad luck for three years. Feeling sorry for him? Bad luck for a lifetime."
Our confrontation quickly drew a crowd.
Glancing around, I saw my "good" roommate, Jennifer, among the spectators.
Her provocative stare, combined with the memory of a recent video call with my mom, suddenly made me understand why everyone had been looking at me strangely.