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Why I hate Middle Class Women

"I endured this pain day after day, drowned in the ocean of tears that weren't allowed to leave my eyes. I held on for long, but they didn't love to see that, they stepped upon my head, content to watch me drown in the emotional mess they caused." Seven relationships and all were doomed from the start. The same issues and the same outcome, all the girls he loved left him, cheated on him, stabbed him in the back. Was he hexed? Was he really the problem? Why did they never last? Chang Wu didn't know. All he knew was that, they were breaking his heart to smaller pieces every time they walked out of his life because he couldn't 'afford' them. He'd tried everything to the extent everyone called him a simp for women who wouldn't even do half of what he'd done for them. 'Why were all middle class women the same?' Why hadn't he met one that wouldn't push the burden of financial responsibilities on his shoulders. The more he thought of it, the more he bore hate, until he decided to give up on them, and aim for something higher.  Dating a rich woman was his next step. As impossible as it sounded and difficult to achieve, he thought the woman on the magazine cover that caught his attention would actually love him, not because of money because she already had that. There were problems, he had to live falsely to catch her eye and watch out for potential threats to avoid the truth from getting exposed, but how long would he pretend to be the opposite of what he truly was? How long would he lie? How long would he continue to live in fear? And most importantly, how would he put an end to the facade without getting his dream woman hurt?

SofarLunar · Urban
Not enough ratings
152 Chs

Chapter 18: Her past

Children in the bus glanced at 43 Main street, drawn with curiosity to the yelling from within. It wasn't merely a raised voice, there was a seething behind it. Through the closed door came screams, each to and fro of the verbal fight getting more shrill, more severe. Jessica stood there after her school bus had long gone, her hand on the handle before she let go and step back.

The fight had ebbed to nothingness, and the silence was as pure as the wintry blanket outside the house. Jessica got in, scanned the room for any trace of her parents, but she only saw her father in the living room, a beer bottle on the table and his feet placed beside it.

Once their gaze met, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stood straight up, her body felt hot and sweat trickled down her face. She was terrified of him, he somewhat knew that, and he liked things that way.