We're quiet for a moment. The hotel AC hums. Outside, I can hear traffic from the street below.
"Can I ask you something?" he says.
"No."
"Why do you hate me so much?"
I turn to look at him. He's on his back, staring at the ceiling, careful not to even glance in my direction.
"Are you serious right now?"
"I know what I did. I'm asking why it still matters so much. It's been three years."
"Because it wasn't just what you did. It's what it meant." I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest. "You were my best friend. The person I trusted more than anyone and you destroyed me in front of everyone to prove that I meant nothing."
"That's not why?—"
"Then why? Give me one good reason why you said those things. Why did you humiliate me like that?"
He's silent for so long I think he won't answer.
Then the words escape in a whisper. "Because my parents made me."
I laugh bitterly. "That's your excuse? Your parents made you?"
"It's not an excuse. It's the truth." He sits up too, and now we're facing each other across the pillow barrier. "They gave me an ultimatum. Cut you off publicly and completely, or they'd destroy your family's restaurant."
The words don't make sense at first. "What?"
"They threatened to report fake immigration violations. Health code violations. Anything they could fabricate to shut down your family's business." His voice is flat, emotionless. "They said if I didn't end our friendship in a way that made it clear I was choosing them, they'd ruin your family."
I stare at him, trying to process this.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You expect me to believe your parents, who were always polite to me, who smiled and made small talk, would do something that cruel?"
"They were polite to your face. Do you know what my mother called you when you weren't around? 'The restaurant girl.' Like you were a servant, not a person." His jaw tightens. "They thought you were beneath me. Inappropriate for their son, they thought it would embarrass the family if they let in a poor girl into the family. Their image was more important than what I wanted and when they realized I—" He stops.
"Realized you what?"
"Nothing. It doesn't matter."
"Finish the sentence."
"When they realized I had feelings for you," he says quietly. "That's when they gave me the ultimatum. Either destroy our friendship publicly, or they'd destroy your family. Those were my only options."
I'm shaking. From anger or shock or something else, I can't tell.
"So you chose to destroy me instead."
"I chose to protect you. Your family needed that restaurant. Your grandmother's medical bills, your sister's expenses, losing that income would have devastated your family."
"So you played the hero by making yourself the villain."
"I played a coward by not telling you the truth. By not finding another way." He runs a hand through his hair. "I was eighteen and terrified and I made the worst choice possible. I thought if I hurt you publicly enough, my parents would back off and you'd hate me, but at least your family would be safe."