CHAPTER TWO. SHATTERED HOPES

Oliver, undeterred by the crowd's attention moved towards Sophia. "Babe, I need to speak with you," he said earnestly. "I already have a ring, and I was looking for you to propose to you as well. Babe, I love you so much," he continued, not minding the murmurs spreading through the gathered students.

Sophia squinted at him with a skeptical look crossing her face as if she detected an offensive odor emanating from Oliver. "What do you want from me?" she demanded, her tone sharp with anger.

Ignoring the growing tension, Oliver said "Babe, I love you so much. I've saved enough money to get you a ring."

Out of anger and disbelief, Harry interjected, unable to contain his frustration. "What does this poor boy want, and why is he saying he loves you?" he exclaimed, his voice cutting through the murmurs and whispers that had already started among the students.

Amidst the crowd, students began hurling insults and mocking remarks at Oliver, their voices filled with disdain and superiority, further intensifying the charged atmosphere.

"Oh my Gosh! Oliver's poverty has affected his brain. How can he say he loves Sophia Williams?" Said one girl in amusement. 

"If I were Harry I would get him arrested." Another girl blurted out.

"He's trying to go head to head with Harry over a lady? Must be delusional." Said another guy. 

Harry stood there, exuding confidence and privilege, adorned in a meticulously Burberry suit that shimmered under the auditorium lights. His polished Ferragamo shoes gleamed as he moved, every step echoing sophistication and wealth.

In stark contrast, Oliver wore a worn-out blazer over a faded shirt, both acquired from second-hand shops. His trousers were patched and his shoes scuffed.

Harry let out a mocking laugh, his tone dripping with arrogance. "What's this, Oliver? Trying to play in the big leagues now?" He smirked, his gaze cutting through Harry like a knife. "You really think you stand a chance against me?"

Harry clenched his fists, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "She is my girlfriend," he retorted defiantly. "And she knows it. Sophia can't deny it."

Harry's expression turned from amusement to irritation. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I agree on one condition. If Sophia says you're her boyfriend herself, then I'll accept it."

Harry nodded firmly, his resolve unshaken. He believed in Sophia's love, convinced that her actions spoke louder than any words. He knew he had done everything possible to show her how much she meant to him.

Sophia looked at Oliver with disbelief written on her face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Oliver," she said coolly, her voice cutting through the tension in the auditorium. "We never dated. Harry is my boyfriend." Her words hung in the air, heavy with finality.

Harry felt a wave of shock and humiliation wash over him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But Sophia, we've been together for months," he protested desperately. "I've spent all my money on you. I even ordered pizza for you just last night."

Sophia shook her head dismissively, her expression hardening. "We were never together, Oliver," I never agreed to date him. He's been pestering me, but how could I accept a proposal from such a poor boy?" she replied icily. "He's are just trying to be relevant with those claims." She paused, her gaze unwavering as she continued, "Let me tell you what really happened."

"I noticed he liked all my photos on social media, and when I checked him out, I realized he was talented," she fabricated, turning to Harry with a grin. "He professed his love for me, so I had him take all my exams and do all my projects for me. I was just using him," she concluded, her voice dripping with deceit.

The crowd burst into laughter, intensifying Oliver's humiliation. How could she be so callous?

He chuckled nervously, trying to ease the tension created by his girlfriend's insult. But inside, he wished he could disappear or the ground should open and swallow him up.

Harry looked on smugly, satisfied with the turn of events. "You see, Oliver," he said mockingly, "actions speak louder than words. You can't force someone to love you."

Once Oliver attempted to interject, Sophia swiftly cut him off, her voice cold and dismissive. "Are you seriously trying to propose to me with this cheap ring?" She scoffed, her eyes scanning him disdainfully. "You should have spent that money on food. Look at you, you're practically malnourished."

With those cutting words, she snatched the ring from Oliver's hand and shoved it into his mouth forcefully. 

Oliver stood there, stunned and humiliated, as the reality of Sophia's rejection hit him hard. The crowd's murmurs and whispers around him only amplified his embarrassment.

Oliver remained rooted to the spot, stunned by the fabricated story Sophia had just concocted and how effortlessly she delivered it. "This is a lost battle," he muttered to himself.

"Can I at least get back the money I gave you to hold for me?" Oliver said.

Sophia chuckled dismissively. "Money? What money?" she retorted, pretending not to understand.

Oliver furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean? I entrusted you with my entire life savings. Give it back, especially since you're saying we're no longer together."

That box contained all the money he had left, as he had been spending his paychecks on ordering food and pizza for her almost every night.

"Oh, that old worn-out box?" Sophia raised her head to meet his gaze. "I had the cleaners sweep it out this morning. It should be in the waste dump." Her words oozed with mockery and contempt, but Oliver remained unfazed.

All he desired was his box, containing the money he had diligently saved over the past three years.

Setting aside forty percent of his earnings monthly, he could only estimate the sum he had amassed. Nonetheless, it should be sufficient for purchasing textbooks and funding his final exams.

Ignoring their stares, Oliver hurried off to retrieve his box. Just as he was about to leave, Harry stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"A loser will always be a loser," Harry taunted. "You want to go head to head with me, Harry Whitmore? You're going to lose over and over again."