It started with a strange request over dinner. My husband, Jake, suggested I cover all our bills so he could “save for our future.” Shocked, I questioned his fairness, but he dismissed my concerns. Days later, a call from an unknown woman shattered everything.
“I’m Anna, Jake’s girlfriend,” she said smugly. “He promised me a downtown apartment, but you’re spending all his money.” She claimed Jake found me boring and wanted me out of the way. Stunned, I began connecting the dots—his secrecy, his excuses.
Instead of confronting him, I played along. That week, I drained our savings, canceled utilities, and found my own place. When Jake realized, he was furious. But it was too late.
“You’re not on the lease, so you’ll need to find somewhere else,” I told him. “And the savings? Consider it payback for everything I did for free.”
Two weeks later, I sipped wine in my new apartment, free at last. Jake was couch-surfing after Anna dumped him. A mutual friend texted: “He’s telling everyone you ruined his life.”
I just laughed. Raising my glass, I whispered, “Here’s to my future, Jake. You’re not in it.”
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