What could possibly be worse? Studying in a different city or not having enough money to actually survive there?

For me, definitely the second one. I mean, what’s the point of being independent if your wallet still screams “property of poverty” every time you open it?

Sure, my family would give me money if I asked—but I’m twenty-one. Asking for money every time I sneeze feels less like adulting and more like being a very expensive pet.

So here I was, wandering around the mall like a professional window-shopper. Roaming, observing, existing—basically everything except buying. Because buying requires money, and my bank account and I had a complicated relationship. (Mostly toxic. Mostly one-sided.)

I wasn’t here to spend. Oh no. I was just here to kill time before time killed me.

And then—bam. My eyes landed on a store.

HeartCart.

Of course, the name itself sounded like it was selling heartbreak with a side of glitter.

Out of curiosity—or masochism—I walked towards it.

Inside, it was a supermarket. Correction: a supermarket for couples.

Matching clothes, matching blankets, matching mugs, matching everything. Basically, if you weren’t a couple, the store politely reminded you that you were single and pathetic—with aesthetic packaging.

I wandered through it anyway, because why not?

Free air-conditioning and free emotional damage.

My eyes scanned the whole place until finally, they landed on a board.

✨LOVE & SAVE✨

“Turn Your Love Into Cashback! 💕

Every hug = rewards.

Every kiss = points.

Every couple selfie = DISCOUNTS!

Exclusive Sweetheart Savings at checkout.

Show your love. Get your perks.

The more you post, the more you save!”

Register as a couple on HeartCart today!

Because love should be rewarding… literally! "

I stared at the board, then let out a scoff loud enough for the universe to hear.

“Seriously? Here I am, broke and brainstorming survival hacks, and they’ve got exclusive rewards for couples. What about the singles, huh? Where’s our pity discount? A free tub of ice cream for emotional stability? A loyalty card for loneliness?” I muttered under my breath, sounding like the spokesperson for Single People Against Society.

Then a thought hit me.

Wait… technically, they don’t know me. Or my relationship status. So if I register with my best friend… boom. Instant lesbian couple. Discounts unlocked. Capitalism: defeated.

I was mid-evil-genius monologue when someone stopped right beside me.

I glanced over. He was slightly taller, holding a cart loaded with noodles and wafers like he’d been personally sponsored by the broke-student diet. His eyes scanned the same board, and then—feeling the weight of my stare—he turned his head.

Green eyes. Light, sharp, and unfairly perfect. The kind that made you forget your own tragic bank balance for a solid three seconds.

Our gazes locked, and just for that moment, we both seemed to be thinking the exact same thing:

Are you also broke enough to fake a relationship for coupons?

He raised a brow, lips twitching in a grin.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not about to kiss anyone for coupons.”

I rolled her eyes.

“Good. Because I’d rather starve than sign up with a stranger.”

A beat of silence.

Then, the board infront of us again flashed ✨ LIMITED OFFER: Register Today & Win a Free Pizza Date ✨.

We both looked at it.

Then at each other.

And despite themselves, thought again—

...Unless?