The Material Girl, His White Moonlight

At sixteen, I had a sudden, horrifying realization: I was living inside a male power-fantasy novel.
And I was cast as the hero’s gold-digger ex-girlfriend.
The script said that after four years together, I would dump him for money. He would then rise to the top of the world, a new beautiful woman on his arm for every season, and eventually, he’d come back to rub his success in my face.
But even after this revelation, I didn’t deviate from my life’s path. I still aced my way through the best high school, then into the top university.
So when the eighteen-year-old hero-to-be stood before me, confessing his feelings, I gave him my most dazzling smile. “Alright,” I said.
“But you should know, being Fiona Dursley’s boyfriend is a role you can be fired from.”

1
That one sentence lit a fire under him.
Alfred Thorne became far more attentive than his character in the book. Beyond the standard ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ texts, he was constantly asking me out.
“I’m busy,” was my standard reply.
The top two students in my major this semester would get a fully-funded opportunity to study abroad. It was a golden ticket, and I wasn’t about to let it slip through my fingers. The consequence was that Alfred only ever saw me in class.
So today, he showed up before my lecture with a bouquet of flowers.
“My dearest girlfriend,” he said, with a flourish, “would you trade this bouquet of red roses for the pleasure of having dinner with me?”
Alfred was undeniably handsome, and the grand gesture had half the girls in the classroom swooning.
“A boyfriend that hot bringing you flowers? You have to say yes!” someone whispered loudly.
I gave the roses a brief, dismissive glance. “Maybe next time you buy flowers,” I said, my voice just loud enough for him to hear, “you should actually find out what kind your girlfriend likes.”
The whole class knew. Someone had sent me roses once, and the allergic reaction had kept me out of school for a week. As my boyfriend, Alfred had managed to pick the one flower I actively despised.
It turns out, if a person is shallow on the inside, a handsome face can only hold your interest for so long.
Later that day, he cornered me outside the library.
“Fiona, are you even serious about being my girlfriend?” he demanded. “We’ve been together for a month. How many times have we actually seen each other?”
I held up the stack of textbooks in my arms. “I have to study. Is this news to you?”
“And for the record, when I told you to perform well, I didn’t mean I wanted a puppy following me around.”
I fixed him with a cool stare. “If you don’t finish this semester at the top of your class, we’re done.”
For the hero of the story, this was hardly a challenge. But in the early chapters, he was committed to his whole ‘slacker genius’ act—brimming with talent but too cool to apply himself. He was saving the big reveal of his brilliance for the parade of future heroines.
As for me, his starter girlfriend? Please. I wasn’t worth the effort.
“Are you serious?” Alfred asked, his voice strained.
I just rolled my eyes and walked into the library.

2
As I dove headfirst into my work, I could feel Alfred’s eyes on me from across the table.
I ignored him. A man without discipline is a man without appeal.
When he realized staring wasn't working, he tried a different tactic.
“Fiona, how do you solve this one?”
I glanced at the problem he was pointing to and then looked at him as if he were an idiot. “If this is the level of question my boyfriend needs help with, you can leave.”
Alfred flushed, realizing he’d picked something on par with ‘1+1=?’
He spent the next ten minutes hunched over his textbook, finally selecting a genuinely difficult problem.
I didn’t brush him off. I took my time, walking him through the logic and the shortcuts to the solution. He started off paying attention to the textbook, but slowly, his gaze drifted from the page to my face.
“Fiona…”
I kept working on my own problem set. “What is it?”
His cheeks were tinged with pink. “You’re not what I expected at all.”
Of course not. He had been drawn to my face, immediately slotting me into the ‘trophy girlfriend’ category in his mind.
I didn’t call him out on it. Instead, I asked, “And what did you expect?”
Alfred thought for a moment. “Beautiful, charming… the center of attention.”
“And now?”
He opened a bottle of water and slid it across the table. I took it with a nod and had a few sips.
“Now,” he said, his voice softer, “I see that you’re brilliant and hardworking. You have this… rational kind of charm.”
I smiled and leaned across the table, stopping just before our noses touched. My eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Good.”
Then I went right back to my work, pointedly ignoring the way the tips of Alfred’s ears had turned a fiery red.
Soon, the end of the semester was approaching, and the university decided to host an Arts Gala to help students de-stress.
The class president came up to me, holding a student activity form. “Fiona, I heard you’re a dancer. Would you be interested in representing our class at the gala?”
I remembered this part. In the original story, my sultry dance performance was what caught the eye of the rich heir.
I declined.
The class president was stunned. “Why not? You’d be amazing.” He pressed on, “You’re already so popular. If you perform, you’ll be the star of the show.”
Perhaps. And in the rich heir’s eyes, I’d be no different from a club dancer he could proposition.
“Because I’ve already signed up to be the host of the Arts Gala,” I replied politely.

3
I beat out all the other applicants for the hosting gig. But the faculty advisor was worried I’d get stage fright.
“Your file says you can sing and dance, but there’s no mention of any hosting experience. You won’t have the same on-stage presence as the others.”
“How about I find you a male co-host?” she suggested. “You can support each other, and it’ll take some of the pressure off.”
I didn’t argue. “Professor, why don’t I do a run-through with your recommended co-host? We can go over the script and see how it works.”
The result was, predictably, a disaster. The guy they’d picked had clearly been pulled in at the last minute with zero prep. With the advisor watching, I had no choice but to go through the entire program script by myself.
When I finished, she applauded lightly. “Alright, then. I was worried you wouldn’t be able to carry the show alone, but you’ve proven me wrong.”
I apologized to the would-be co-host.
He blushed. “No, no, it’s fine! You were just… you were amazing, Fiona. I’ll work harder so maybe one day I’ll get the chance to share a stage with you.”
As for why the university didn’t bother holding proper auditions for a male host?
Because this was a male power-fantasy novel. All the female characters were props for the hero. Why would any other man get a chance to shine in the spotlight? Even the original host from the book, Laura, was just another conquest for the hero down the line.
When Alfred heard I was hosting the gala, his first reaction was excitement. His second was jealousy.
“Doesn’t that mean a ton of guys are going to be checking you out?”

4
I pinched his cheek. “Why don’t you ask if I’ll be checking any of them out?”
Alfred pulled me into a hug. “I don’t care. You’re only allowed to look at me.”
I subtly pushed him away. “That depends on whether you continue to measure up.”
On the night of the gala, I abandoned my usual minimalist style. I went all out, renting a stunning evening gown from the university’s costume department.
Even as the disposable ex-girlfriend, my looks were top-tier. Otherwise, the hero wouldn’t have spent half the book collecting women who bore a passing resemblance to me. The thought made my stomach turn.
I walked onto the stage to a wave of applause and stunned silence. My beauty was an asset—one I wouldn't overuse, but one I would never discard.
The most intense gaze in the audience, of course, belonged to Alfred. But I couldn't help but notice the man in the front row: Damian Sterling, the book’s secondary male lead. It was hard not to notice him. He and his bodyguards took up an entire row. His eyes were locked on me.
I offered a polite, generic smile in his direction and then looked away.

5
After the show, Alfred came on stage with a huge bouquet of white roses.
Great. More roses.
He tried to hand them to me. “Fiona, I’m so proud of you.”
I gave him a quick hug but didn’t take the flowers.
Alfred looked confused. “You don’t like them? I made sure to get white roses this time, not red. I thought all women liked roses.”
Just then, the rich heir, Damian, made his way onto the stage.
“Excuse me for interrupting. Hello, I’m Damian Sterling.” He offered me a bouquet of pristine white tulips. “I feel tulips are a much better match for your elegance tonight, Miss Dursley.”
I smiled and accepted the tulips.
Alfred’s face started to darken.
I tugged on his sleeve. “Alfred, darling, could you reimburse Mr. Sterling for the flowers? It was so kind of him to pick them up for me.”
A grin spread across Alfred’s face. He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and shoved it at Damian. “Thanks for the effort, but I’m perfectly capable of buying my own girlfriend flowers.”
Damian just smirked. “You have to buy the right ones first.”
I thanked him again to break the tension, then looped my arm through Alfred’s and led him backstage.
Once we were alone, Alfred, practically bursting with pride, told me he’d turned down a girl who confessed her feelings to him today.
“Who was it?”

6
“Laura. The girl who was also trying out to be the host.”
So it was her. It seemed my presence in the competition had pushed her into the audience, where she’d met Alfred ahead of schedule and made her move.
“And?”
“I turned her down, of course,” Alfred said, puffing out his chest. “I already have the best girlfriend in the world.”
Speak of the devil. The person handling the backstage cleanup was Laura herself. Her eyes immediately landed on our intertwined hands, her gaze sharp and assessing.
“So you’re Fiona Dursley. Alfred’s girlfriend.”
I just smiled and said nothing.
Laura’s expression soured. “You’re lucky to have a boyfriend like him.”
“It’s not her who’s lucky, it’s me,” Alfred interjected, leaning his head toward me. I gave his hair a perfunctory ruffle.
“Such a good boy.”
Laura looked like she’d been slapped. She dropped what she was doing and ran out, tears welling in her eyes.
Once she was gone, Alfred’s smile faded. “Fiona, the reason you didn’t take my roses… is it because you really don’t like them?”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
He tightened his grip on my hand. “Next time, even if you don’t like them, can you just take them anyway?”
I pulled my hand back, my own expression turning cold. Without another word, I started walking toward my dorm.
Alfred rushed after me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant… in front of your other admirers, could you give me a little…”
I stopped and turned. “A little what?”
He wrapped his arms around me. “A little face.”
Just then, Damian Sterling happened to be walking by.
I tilted Alfred’s chin up and kissed him.
Right in Damian’s line of sight.
“Was that enough for you?”

7
Alfred’s face was as red as a ripe apple. He stood there, completely stunned, but his eyes shot a triumphant glare at Damian.
“Childish,” I muttered.
By the end of the semester, Alfred and I were the campus’s model couple. Everything seemed to be going perfectly.
But then, a plot twist that wasn’t in the original script appeared.
The university was offering a full scholarship for the top two students in our department to study abroad. Originally, Alfred and I were tied for first place, both securing a spot.
But my advisor had just sent me a message. There had been a change. Because of Damian Sterling’s family connections, the department had decided to add him to the list.
Which meant that either Alfred or I would be cut.
Honestly, someone with Damian’s background didn’t need a university scholarship. If he wanted to study abroad, he had a dozen better options. It made no sense for him to pull strings for this one, small opportunity.
It was a power play, designed to force Alfred and me to come to him.
And in that moment, I realized just how powerless I was. Until Alfred had his big hero moment and leveled up, Damian was effectively the second protagonist of this world. He had the power to crush anyone. Against him, I had no moves to make.
I told Alfred about the situation. He was silent for a long moment, then looked at me.
“Let’s just give up, Fiona,” he said. “We don’t have to try so hard.”
It was like a splash of cold water to the face. I finally understood my mistake.
Compared to the hero of the story, blessed with endless good fortune, I was just a disposable stepping stone. Now that I was aware of the plot, how could I possibly have expected him to be my support?

8
I accepted Damian Sterling’s invitation.
Studying abroad would allow me to build my own network, to create a bigger future for myself. I had no reason to give that up. If the plot remained unchanged, the domestic market would one day belong to Alfred. My only move was to carve out my own territory overseas.
Damian had chosen an absurdly luxurious and stylish cafe.
His first words to me were, “Will you be my girlfriend?”
“No,” I replied instantly.
He was taken aback. “Then why did you agree to meet me today?” He quickly recovered, smiling. “Don’t be so quick to refuse. You can think it over while you enjoy your coffee.”
I didn’t say anything. I simply picked up my cup, inhaled the aroma, and then proceeded to add a generous amount of sugar and cream.
Damian raised an eyebrow. “That’s pure Blue Mountain coffee, you know.” The implication was clear: I was ruining it.
I decided it wasn’t sweet enough and added another sugar cube.
“I’m not a fan of making things difficult for myself.”
“I came here today to tell you that I am willing to go abroad with you. I am not, however, willing to become your girlfriend.”
Damian took a slow sip of his own coffee. “But… if you’re not my girlfriend, why would I give you this opportunity?”
I played my next card. “I will break up with Alfred.”
I let that hang in the air for a second. “Not to be with you. But to give you an opportunity to pursue me.”
Damian burst out laughing. “That is the most interesting proposition I’ve heard all year.”
I said nothing more. I just left my contact information on the table.
“Let me know when you’ve made a decision. This offer won’t last forever.” I stood up to leave. “You have until tomorrow morning.”
I was betting on two things: Damian’s arrogance, and the narrative’s relentless drive to separate me and Alfred.
It was a gamble I had to take.

9
Even before I got a confirmation from Damian, I sent Alfred the breakup text.
He rushed to my dorm, standing outside the building. It was funny, in a sad way. It was the first time he’d ever come here on his own initiative.
He stood there all night, causing a campus-wide spectacle. Finally, worn down by the unspoken pressure from my roommates, I went down to see him.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt. He looked utterly heartbroken.
“You’re breaking up with me for this scholarship?” he asked, his voice rough. “You’re going to dump me and run off with that rich guy?”
“Not exactly,” I corrected him. “The scholarship is the immediate cause, yes. But the root cause is this: you’re lazy and you have no backbone. You don’t meet the standards for the next phase of my life.”
“Next phase?” he repeated blankly.
I nodded. “People are supposed to strive for better things. Just because you’re content to coast doesn’t mean I have to accept it. Besides, when this whole thing with Damian came up, what did you do? You stood there and told me to just let it go, spouting nonsense about how things will work themselves out.”
“What else did you do?”
“That doesn’t mean I have no backbone,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you. I just don’t want to see you struggle.”
I threw my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Exactly.”
“So I’m not struggling anymore. I’m breaking up with you.”

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