Three months later, Mike came home looking distressed. He said he’d crashed his boss’s car and needed $8,000 to keep his job. Without hesitation, I transferred the money, believing I was protecting the man I loved. I felt proud to help him, certain we were a team.
That feeling didn’t last. Days later, while using his laptop to find a recipe, I noticed a file labeled “Tickets_Miami.pdf.” Curiosity turned to heartbreak as I opened it and saw flight details and hotel reservations—for Mike and his boss.
The story about the accident was a lie. My stomach dropped as I realized he had deceived me to fund a secret trip. When I confronted him, he couldn’t deny it. The calm, loving man I thought I knew had manipulated my trust.
That night, I packed a bag and left. The home we’d built no longer felt safe. Love had turned into something fragile and foreign.
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