The Man Who Faked My Future

My boyfriend Ethan makes forty thousand dollars a month, and every month he puts thirty thousand dollars into an account for me. Everyone says I found a great guy.

But only I knew he never gave me the card's PIN.

He said it was for our future, but our present? I paid for everything.

Dinners out, rent, even his clothes and new phone -- he always asked me for money.

I was a college student who hadn't even graduated yet, working four part-time jobs, to the point my period stopped being regular. All he said was:

"I'm putting thirty thousand aside for you every month, and you're still quibbling over these small amounts?"

Then came my graduation presentation. My mom had a heart attack. I rushed to the bank with that card, only for the teller to tell me---

"Ma'am, this card was canceled three years ago. There was never a single cent in it."

At that moment, standing in the bank lobby, looking at that useless piece of plastic in my hand, I suddenly burst out laughing.

On our third anniversary, my boyfriend Ethan updated his Ins.

The post featured a retouched photo of us at a fancy restaurant, with a close-up of a bank card and a bouquet of flowers beside it. The caption read:

"Three-year anniversary. The 36th deposit of $30,000 for her is in. That $30,000 I put aside for her every month is her security."

His comments section was full of praise:

A friend commented: "Ethan is so good to her, thirty thousand a month? Who could resist that?"

A colleague commented: "Hazel must've saved the galaxy in a past life."

His mom commented: "My son is so reliable. Hazel is lucky to be with him."

I looked at that beautifully crafted post and could only think that I paid $880 for that dinner, and even the flowers on the table were bought by me.

Before I could even process it, Ethan sent me a few links:

"Hazel, can you pay for these shoes for me? And this shirt, I need some new clothes."

I glanced at the prices: the shoes were one thousand eight hundred, the shirt one thousand two hundred. That was three thousand total. I was currently working four part-time jobs, and only making seven thousand a month altogether.

A bitter feeling rose in my chest. I carefully worded my reply: "Things are a bit tight lately. Maybe next month?"

Ethan replied instantly:

"I put thirty thousand aside for you every month, and you can't even buy me a pair of shoes? Hazel, you're not going to be that stingy, are you?"

"If I wasn't putting thirty thousand aside for you every month, would I even have to ask you for clothes?"

My throat tightened. I opened my banking app; my balance was only four hundred twenty dollars.

"I... I don't have enough money this month. Can I buy them for you next month?"

Ethan replied instantly:

"Not enough again? Hazel, I put thirty thousand aside for you as security for our future, not for you to be so wasteful!"

"Where did all your money go?!"

Where did my money go?

Last week, he said his company was organizing an outdoor team-building event, so I bought him a full outdoor outfit, a thousand dollars.

The week before, I just paid the rent, six thousand.

I used to share an apartment, and it only cost me seven hundred a month.

After I started dating Ethan, he said the bank's dorms were too crowded, and he worried about me living alone as a girl. He insisted on moving in with me.

My shared apartment became a full rental, and my seven hundred dollar monthly rent became two thousand dollars.

In three years, Ethan hadn't paid a single cent of rent.

If I dared to question it, he'd scold me:

"Hazel, if I wasn't putting thirty thousand aside for you every month, would I be so broke? Can't even afford rent? Don't I have any dignity?"

"You're holding a card with over a million of my dollars, and you're still being so cheap about buying me clothes? Do you have a heart?"

"You're just a college student; how would you understand the hardships of working life? You should do more part-time jobs and experience life!"

Thinking of this, I closed my eyes, opened a job search app, and started looking for a fifth part-time job.

My roommate Lucy asked me, "Hazel, you mentioned your period hadn't come for several months last time. Did you go get it checked?"

I froze, a bitter taste in my mouth, unsure how to answer.

My classmates all envied me, saying my boyfriend put thirty thousand dollars aside for me every month, the kind of boyfriend they couldn't find even if they searched high and low.

But who knew that my period hadn't come for four months, and I couldn't even afford a hospital visit?

That so-called thirty thousand dollars every month? I hadn't touched a single cent.

The card was in my hand, but the PIN wasn't.

I asked for the PIN a few times, and Ethan would always say, "I'll tell you the PIN later. Anyway, the card is with you; the money isn't going anywhere."

This empty promise became Ethan's leverage over me. I found it hard to refuse him anything he asked for.

I had to buy him clothes and shoes, pay his car insurance, and even top up his phone.

His phone was the latest iPhone, while mine was an old 0-000 phone my mom bought me before I started college.

When we went out for dinner or movies, I always paid.

Household essentials, groceries, utility bills -- he never bothered with any of it.

If I showed even a hint of hesitation, he would immediately throw out that line:

"I put thirty thousand aside for you every month, and you're quibbling over these small amounts with me?"

This sentence was like a lock that cut off all my escape routes.

For three out of my four years in college, I dated him. For those three years, besides classes, I was always working part-time jobs, doing four jobs, to the point my period was irregular.

What was the point of this relationship?

That weekend, Ethan took me to a restaurant for dinner.

Soon after we sat down, we ran into two of Ethan's colleagues. We just joined tables.

Ethan was very generous, grabbing the menu and adding several dishes. We all ate happily.

When we were almost done, the waiter placed the bill on the table:

"Your table's total is six hundred thirty dollars."

A colleague was about to grab his phone to pay when Ethan stopped him.

He pushed the bill towards me, "This one's on me."

He said it was on him, but I was the one who paid.

His two colleagues didn't find anything wrong with this, because all of Ethan's colleagues knew that as soon as Ethan got paid each month, he'd transfer thirty thousand dollars to his girlfriend.

But my phone balance was only four hundred twenty dollars total right now, nowhere near enough.

Under the table, I tugged on Ethan's sleeve and whispered, "I don't have enough money..."

Ethan didn't even look up. "Stop it."

I didn't know what to do; my face slowly began to burn.

The waiter asked again, "Who will be paying?"

Ethan didn't answer.

One colleague chuckled, teasing me, "Come on, Hazel! Ethan's total salary is forty thousand, and thirty thousand goes to you. This meal is just pocket change for you, right?"

Another colleague chimed in, "Exactly, Hazel! Thirty thousand dollars! We're so envious. This meal is just pocket change for you!"

Everyone was waiting for me to pay. I felt like I was being roasted alive, my face beet red.

But I really had no money. I stood there, phone in hand, stiff and unsure what to do.

The waiter had waited too long, and his expression started to show impatience. He directly prompted me:

"Ma'am, the total is six hundred thirty. SnapChat or PayPal?"

The two colleagues' gazes turned unfriendly, and even customers at the next table started looking our way.

"Why isn't that girl paying yet? What's she waiting for?"

"Didn't they just say her boyfriend puts thirty thousand aside for her every month? I'm so envious."

"She's not paying even this? Is she just being cheap?"

"Maybe she spent it all."

"Oh my god, she spent thirty thousand already? She's so extravagant! Girls these days really..."

Ethan finally realized I genuinely couldn't pay this time.

He shook his head, smiling as he pulled out his phone, "Alright, alright, I'll get it."

As he paid, he explained to his colleagues, "Girls can be a bit stingy. I put thirty thousand aside for her every month, and she's used to spending lavishly. It's gone before the month is out. She's still a student, you know, a bit thoughtless."

The colleagues' looks towards me weren't friendly either. "Ethan, you spoil Hazel too much. Thirty thousand isn't enough for her? That's not right. Hazel, Ethan works hard for his money; you need to be considerate and not squander it."

Another agreed, "Exactly, girls spend without thinking; you can't spoil them. Ethan, you really need to rein Hazel in. She's so generous with herself but cheap when it comes to treating you."

I sat there, frozen with indignation.

Again, thirty thousand! Everyone knew he put thirty thousand aside for me every month!

But who knew I was now working five jobs?

Who knew I couldn't even afford to visit a hospital when I was sick?

Who knew my card balance had never exceeded three digits?

I swallowed back my tears, refusing to cry in public.

That evening, I saw a post from Ethan's mom on Ins:

"My son bought me a new phone. I told him not to get such an expensive one, but he insisted this one was good."

The accompanying photo was of the latest iPhone, seven thousand eight hundred dollars.

I stared at that picture, and tears streamed down my face.

Ethan bought his mom a seven-thousand-eight-hundred-dollar phone without batting an eye, yet in three years, he had never bought me a single cup of coffee.

I scrolled further back through Ethan's mom's Ins.

Ethan gave his mom eight thousand dollars every month, either in cash or by buying things, and his mom would post about it monthly.

Clothes and skincare products worth thousands of dollars were common.

I clenched my phone and opened my SnapChat conversation with Ethan.

Scrolling up, the screen was filled with messages from him asking me to buy things.

"Pay for these shoes for me."

"Car insurance is due; can you cover it first?"

"My phone needs an upgrade."

From small items like socks and underwear to big ones like phones and cameras.

Over three years, the cost of these things added up to over two hundred thousand dollars, crushing my entire college life.

And I, myself, had never bought clothes or skincare products costing over a hundred dollars.

I stared at my phone, my heart growing colder by the second.

He always said he gave me thirty thousand of his forty-thousand-dollar salary, leaving him not enough to spend.

Turns out, his "not enough to spend" just meant not enough to spend on *me*.

His money was always enough. But he knew exactly who it was spent on.

A ringtone interrupted my thoughts. It was my mom calling.

"Mom, how's your health lately?"

"Hazel, I'm fine. Just a bit of tightness in my chest, and I can't catch my breath."

My heart clenched. "Mom, you need to go to the hospital and get checked out."

"It's nothing major, just tired. I'll rest for a couple of days and be fine."

"What if something serious happens?" I got anxious. "Just do it for my peace of mind."

My mom was silent for a moment before speaking. "A hospital check-up costs at least a few hundred dollars. If there's nothing wrong, wouldn't that be a waste?"

"I'm not capable. Other people's kids have an easy time in college, but my daughter has to work part-time to earn her living expenses. I can't drag my daughter down anymore."

My eyes welled up, and my throat felt tight.

Ethan and his mom used the latest phones and wore clothes worth thousands.

Meanwhile, my mom and I couldn't even afford a hospital visit.

On the day of my graduation presentation, I had just stepped down from the podium, pulled out my phone, and saw over a dozen missed calls.

All from my mom.

My heart sank, and I quickly called her back.

But it wasn't my mom who answered; it was our neighbor, Mr. Davis.

"Hazel, come home quickly! Your mom fainted right downstairs after buying groceries. A few neighbors and I took her to the hospital!"

My head started spinning.

"The doctor said it's a heart condition and she needs immediate surgery! They're asking family to pay up quickly! One hundred thousand dollars!"

I didn't wait for my presentation results. I grabbed my bag and ran out.

On the way, I messaged Ethan:

"What's the card PIN? Urgent."

After a while, he replied:

"I'll tell you later. You have enough from your part-time jobs; don't spend carelessly."

My hands were shaking too much to type, so I called him directly.

"Ethan, my mom is sick! Heart attack! She needs one hundred thousand dollars for surgery! Please tell me the PIN now!"

The other end of the phone was silent for two seconds, then he said unhurriedly:

"Hazel, you're cursing your own mom just to trick me into giving you money? That's going too far."

He hung up immediately, not listening to another word I had to say.

My hands trembling, I scrolled through all my accounts on my phone.

SnapChat balance, PayPal, bank cards---all combined, I only had just over seven hundred dollars.

Not even a fraction of what was needed.

I called Ethan's number again. It was off.

I sent a message, and an auto-reply popped up:

"In a closed-door meeting, please do not disturb."

For four years, I had worked part-time jobs continuously, saved diligently, and most of the money I earned went to Ethan. I hadn't saved a single cent for myself.

He claimed every month he put thirty thousand aside for me, over a million dollars in three years, yet I couldn't even afford my mom's one-hundred-thousand-dollar surgery fee.

My tears streamed down uncontrollably.

With no other choice, I rushed into the nearest bank, went straight to the counter, and handed the bank card to the teller.

"Hi, I need to withdraw money, but I forgot the PIN. Can I use my ID?"

The teller took the card and checked it:

"Ma'am, this card is in a canceled state."

My heart lurched violently.

"How is that possible? My boyfriend deposits thirty thousand every month; there should be over a million dollars in it now!"

The teller looked at me with some pity:

"This card was canceled three years ago. From its opening to its cancellation, there was never a single deposit recorded."

I stood there, completely frozen, feeling like my world crashed down.

Three years, and not a single deposit.

What about his monthly Ins posts then?

What about the transfer screenshots of that bank card?

What about that line, "That $30,000 I put aside for her every month is her security"?

All of it was fake.

He had been lying to me from beginning to end!

My phone rang again. It was Mr. Davis.

"Hazel, the doctor is pressing for the payment again! Your mom can't wait; you need to hurry!"

I looked down at the card in my hand and suddenly burst out laughing.

I was a college student, working four jobs to support him, scrimping and saving, only to pour it all into him.

And he used a fake card to trick me for three years, making me willingly be his ATM.

Fine.

Ethan, you're really something else.

I fiercely rubbed my face, hailed a cab back to our rental apartment, and dug out all of Ethan's documents: his ID, vehicle registration, bank professional qualification, fund manager license, academic certificates, etc. I photographed each one.

Ethan worked at the bank and was well-connected. He always appeared outwardly generous, and his Ins posts monthly boasted about putting thirty thousand aside for his girlfriend. Everyone thought he had a legitimate job, stable income, and was a reliable good guy.

Well, perfect.

I started calling Ethan's classmates, friends, colleagues, and clients, one by one.

"Hi, I'm Ethan's girlfriend. He's having some cash flow issues lately. Could you lend him fifty thousand? You can use his documents as collateral."

"Ethan urgently needs some money; would it be okay to lend him one hundred thousand?"

In two hours, I made almost a hundred calls. The 'money received' notifications on my bank app chimed non-stop.

I checked my account: seven hundred eighty thousand dollars had arrived.