The Price of "Tough Love"

My childhood sweethearts family believed that boys should be raised in poverty to build character.

So, Lucas lived in a run-down apartment, eating nothing but plain bread and pickled vegetables.

I couldn't bear it and secretly helped him out.

But Lucas thought I was chasing him.

He rejected me with a cold face: "I don't need your charity, and I won't accept your pursuit. Give up."

Disappointed, I gave up and consciously kept my distance from him.

It wasn't until after high school graduation, when Lucas got accepted into a top college, that he found out his family was actually loaded.

He completely changed his attitude and started hovering around me every day.

His friend was confused: "Bro, didn't you hate her?"

Lucas: "Who said that?"

"Your bro has money now, I must shower her with it!"

Me: ?

"Bro, she's here again."

I stood at the door of Lucas's classroom, holding a lunchbox.

Enduring the teasing, joking, and mocking stares of everyone around, I waited for Lucas to come out.

Hearing his classmate's reminder, Lucas indeed pulled himself out of his sea of textbooks and looked up at me.

He froze for a second, then frowned fiercely.

It was the long break between classes, and people were coming and going.

I felt a bit embarrassed, so I reached out and waved at him.

The implication was: Hurry up and come out.

Lucas's classmate teased me: "Isn't this Chloe from Class 4? Bringing food for our bro again?"

"What are you saying? Why call her classmate? She's clearly our bro's..."

A burst of laughter erupted.

I didn't understand what they were laughing at; I just anxiously called Lucas out.

This was the food I specifically asked our family's cook, Maria, to prepare.

All the flavors Lucas liked.

Seeing my face getting redder, Lucas finally got up and came out.

He impatiently dispersed the onlookers and pulled me into the stairwell.

I presented the lunchbox to him like a treasure.

"Lucas, didn't you say the ribs were good last time? I brought you a lot this time."

Lucas stared at me expressionlessly.

I shrank back a bit, feeling inexplicably nervous.

To be fair, Lucas had a very aggressive look.

Especially when he wasn't smiling, his face looked even fiercer.

I didn't know how I had offended him, so I could only test the waters carefully: "Lucas, are you angry?"

Lucas stared at my face for a moment and suddenly said: "Chloe, why do you always bring me food? I can swipe my own card and eat in the cafeteria."

I thought about it and smiled: "The cafeteria food is too salty and greasy. Eating too much of it is bad for your health. The food at my house is evaluated by a nutritionist; it's better for you."

Lucas's face suddenly turned ugly.

I looked at the prominent bones on his hands and suddenly felt a bit of heartache.

I held his hand and said: "Your parents are busy with work, and you always skimp on your meals. Look, you're getting so thin."

The next second, Lucas suddenly shook off my hand.

"You'd better not bring me food anymore."

Lucas left.

My lunchbox accidentally spilled all over the floor. The strict Dean of Students passed by, saw it, and gave me a harsh scolding.

He made me write a reflection paper and clean up the floor spotless.

My eyes burned a little, but I held back my tears.

By the time I finished cleaning, class had already started.

I didn't know why Lucas suddenly got mad.

But I figured something I said must have accidentally angered him.

Did he not want to be teased by his classmates?

Or was he tired of the food?

Thinking about it, I decided to ask him carefully after school tonight.

After the last class, I waited for Lucas at the school gate.

He wore a clean school uniform, his back straight.

Seeing him, my eyes lit up.

"Lucas, let's go home together, okay?"

Saying that, I pointed to the new black SUV my dad just bought.

Lucas's gaze swept over my family's car from front to back, then returned to me.

"No need, I'll ride my bike home."

The bike Lucas pointed to was an old, rusty one.

Who knows where his dad got it. It was covered in rust and rattled loudly when ridden.

I quickly grabbed his hand.

Half begging, half forcing: "Come on, come on, my car is faster. Don't you want to get home sooner?"

Lucas's brow furrowed, suppressing his anger.

"Chloe, don't you have your own things to do?"

His voice wasn't loud.

But it was enough to stun me.

What... does he mean by this?

I just wanted a chance to talk to him.

His class was the honors class; the workload was heavy.

Plus, Lucas loved studying so much he didn't even stop doing practice problems during breaks.

I simply didn't have much time to talk to him.

But Lucas didn't give me a second chance to speak.

He walked straight towards his small bicycle.

Leaving me with only a cold back.

The questions I wanted to ask blocked my throat; not a single word popped out.

I cursed him silently in my heart:

"Stupid Lucas, why are you being so cold!"

Lucas and I are childhood sweethearts; we played together since we were little.

It's just that the distance between our two homes was a bit far now.

Every time I went to play with him, I had to sit in the car for a long, long time.

Originally, our families lived in adjacent mansions.

But when Lucas was five, his dad decided to raise him in poverty.

My parents tried hard to stop him at the time.

But Lucas's dad said resolutely: "Boys must be raised poor. We must temper their will and train their bodies from a young age, so they can endure hardship and exhaustion."

So, five-year-old Lucas moved away.

Moved to a very small, very dark apartment.

I had been to that apartment; it was a bare concrete room.

It was already in a sunless location, and the dim lighting made it look like a giant animal cage.

It was suffocating.

And Lucas spent over a decade growing up in such a small, cramped room.

Even his food, clothing, and transportation were extremely strained.

I didn't understand.

There are many ways to teach a kid the value of hard work. Why did his dad have to create such an extreme environment?

Later, I heard my parents say that Lucas originally had an older brother.

Because of some setbacks in relationships and work, he took his own life.

Lucas's dad attributed the reason to a fragile inner world.

So he insisted on having a second child with his wife, and Lucas was born.

My parents specifically warned me never to tell Lucas about this.

Otherwise, his dad would be unhappy.

I could only nod and agree.

But I couldn't help pitying Lucas.

He was supposed to be a privileged child, yet he was forced to grow up in a small room with extremely poor lighting.

And knowing the truth, I could only stand by and watch.

The feeling of knowing the truth but not being able to speak was too torturous.

So I could only quietly be good to Lucas in my own way.

When we were little, I would save half of my snacks for him.

As we grew older, I always invited him to play at my house.

Lucas was very cute every time he accepted with a blushing face.

Later, slowly moving into middle school, Lucas rarely came to me.

I didn't mind too much, just thinking he didn't want to travel so far to see me.

So I frequently stuck to him.

Habit is a scary thing.

With hindsight, I realized I seemed to have fallen for Lucas.

He was good-looking and had good grades.

Although usually taciturn, he was special to me.

Falling for him was inevitable.

I silently decided in my heart: after the college entrance exams, I would confess to him.

After all, Lucas seemed to like me a little bit too.

But now, I started to waver.

Does Lucas... really like me?

The next day was the weekend.

My mom said we were going to eat with Lucas's family.

Just like usual.

We chose an ordinary restaurant.

After entering the private room, I greeted Mr. and Mrs. Miller.

They still kept up their act perfectly.

Wearing worn-out clothes from head to toe.

I smiled politely and sat next to my mom.

While the adults were chatting, I saw a bottle of loquat juice on the table.

I offered proactively: "Mrs. Miller, isn't Lucas allergic to loquats? I'll ask the waiter to change the water."

Mrs. Miller said subconsciously: "Lucas? He's not allergic."

The smile on my face suddenly froze.

Before I could speak again, Lucas came back from the restroom.

I sat back down, but my thoughts were a tangled mess.

Last week the temperature dropped.

I noticed Lucas coughing non-stop for days, so I brought homemade loquat syrup from home and put it on his desk when no one was around.

I even attached a sticky note: "This works really well, give it a try."

But the next day, he put the unopened bottle of loquat syrup back on my desk.

I confusedly asked him why.

Lucas's tone was as flat as if he were talking about the weather:

"Thanks. But I'm allergic to loquats. Don't trouble yourself in the future."

My thoughts returned.

I felt a bit lost.

He clearly wasn't allergic, why wouldn't he accept my goodwill?

I looked up at Lucas.

He wasn't looking at me, his face still flat.

But I knew him.

Lucas was unhappy right now.

I couldn't figure it out, and didn't know how to ask.

At the dinner table, the topic somehow turned to the two of us, soon-to-be high school graduates.

Lucas's dad asked me where I wanted to go for college.

I subconsciously looked at Lucas.

But Lucas shifted his gaze away.

My heart swelled, and I lowered my head feeling a bit lonely.

I answered: "Anywhere is fine. If possible, I still want to be with Lucas."

I didn't dare to look up at Lucas's face.

But I heard his dad joke about how close Lucas and I were.

We used to be close, indeed.

But now, I wasn't so sure.

I felt like I couldn't read Lucas anymore.

His dad asked Lucas what he thought.

I heard him say: "Everyone has their own path to walk, just focus on yourself."

My heart felt like it was pricked by a needle.

It wasn't anger, but a profound sense of powerlessness.

That sentence seemed specifically directed at me.

Lucas was telling me: he didn't want to be with me.

The next day, I woke up with red, swollen eyes.

On the nightstand lay two pairs of wool gloves.

The weather was getting cold now; he must be freezing riding his bike to school.

That's why I bought them to give to him.

Thinking about it, I had already bought them, I might as well give them to him.

During the familiar long break, I packed the gift box, preparing to give it to Lucas.

Just as I reached the door of his classroom, I heard Lucas chatting with someone else.

"Bro, you got another love letter, so jealous."

"If you ask me, this subtle way is the best. That Chloe from Class 4 runs over here every day, like a simp."

"Tell me about it, Bro is sick to death of her, and she still keeps forcing her stuff on him."

"If Bro wasn't trying to protect the little girl's self-esteem, he would have rejected her ages ago."

"Exactly, Bro's most important task right now is studying. We're counting on him to get into an Ivy League. Who has the mind to deal with Chloe's pursuit."

I stood blankly at the back door of the classroom.

Listening to their words land word by word.

But through it all, Lucas never said a single word.

Was that tacit agreement?

I do like Lucas.

But I also know now is not the time to date.

Even if I were to pursue him, it would be after the college entrance exams.

What I'm doing now is just trying to make Lucas's life a tiny bit better.

What gives him the right to assume I'm pursuing him.

I was so angry my eyes turned red, but I couldn't say a single word.

If I had known... I should have just cursed them out.

Just then, someone noticed me.

Alerted by a classmate, Lucas slowly turned his head and saw me.

The moment he saw my tears clearly, he immediately rushed out.

I didn't want to see Lucas in this embarrassing moment.

So I ran towards the garden downstairs without looking back.

But Lucas chased after me.

He grabbed my wrist.

"Chloe, what's wrong."

I couldn't stop myself from wanting to cry, biting my lip hard.

Lucas took out a tissue to wipe my tears.

"Don't cry, what happened."

After saying that, Lucas looked down and glimpsed my gift box.

His face sank a bit: "What's this, another gift for me?"

Only then did I realize I was still holding the wool gloves.

I exhaled heavily, just wanting to give him the item quickly and leave.

"Here, for you. You can wear them when you ride your bike."

But Lucas didn't take them.

He looked at me quietly, his tone indifferent: "I have gloves. Whatever I use is the same."

I bit my lip, looking at his face.

I just felt he was so unfamiliar.

My heart felt like it was gripped tightly; I couldn't breathe.

The things I treasured and put my heart into, in his eyes, were totally unnecessary.

Until this moment, I finally felt it clearly.

The gap between Lucas's and my understanding of our relationship was like a chasm.

After a few seconds of silence, I asked in a choked voice:

"Lucas, why do you always reject me? Weren't we fine before?"

Lucas frowned, staring at my face.

After a long while, he asked in confusion: "So, are you really pursuing me?"

I opened my mouth, just about to explain.

But was interrupted by Lucas.

He rejected me righteously: "I don't need your charity, and I won't accept your pursuit. Give up."

My eyes instantly widened.

Charity?

Charity!

The goodness I had shown him for so long, in his eyes, was just charity and pity?

My sincere, unrequited goodwill was actually seen by him as blatant relief?!

So that was it.

The goodness I thought I was showing was actually hurting his self-esteem all the time.

No wonder when our families ate together, only Lucas had a tight face.

No wonder every time I invited him to play at my house, Lucas would awkwardly refuse.

No wonder when I casually helped him buy study guides, he insisted on shoving those few crumpled dollar bills into my hand.

I suddenly didn't know whether to be angry or find it laughable.

I looked at Lucas with complex eyes.

Then nodded calmly.

"Okay, I understand."

"I won't bother you anymore."