They had often seen me buying things for Jeremy and accompanying him during his exercises. Everyone knew he was my boyfriend.
In an instant, all eyes—filled with pity or mockery—landed on me.
I stood frozen, looking down at my ten-dollar T-shirt, twenty-dollar canvas shoes and the exhaustion that clung to my entire being.
I really did look like a housekeeper.
Still, I had taken care of Jeremy for five years. Even if he had introduced me as his neighbour, I wouldn't have felt so utterly humiliated.
When I finally reached the lead car, Jeremy had already opened the door for Stella to get in. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned to me. "You've taken care of me for so long. If you have any wishes, tell me and I can fulfil them!"
Wendy immediately urged me, "Quick, quick! This is your chance, ask him to take you with him!"
However, I didn't budge. I just numbly shook the bag of medicine I held in my hand. "Since you don't actually have a terminal illness, why don't you settle the bill for the medicine I bought you these past few years? Oh, and the living expenses too! That makes a total of ... fifty-nine thousand eight hundred!"