But another part of me—the small, steady voice I’ve been ignoring for months—is whispering something else.
If this is how he reacts when asked to carry his share… what would happen with bigger things? Rent? Emergencies? Kids someday?
It does feel like a giant red flag. Not because he didn’t have his wallet. But because he felt entitled to mine. And when I finally said “no,” he called me a gold-digger.
I think what scares me most isn’t losing him.
It’s realizing I might have been settling for less than I deserve.
So now I’m sitting here, coffee untouched, phone face-down on the table, wondering what I’m supposed to do next.
Maybe the real question isn’t whether I handled it perfectly.
Maybe it’s this: If I go back, what exactly am I going back to?
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