What I Did Next: I Stopped Financing His Life
The next morning, I packed.
Not everything.
Just essentials:
Clothes.
My nursing certifications.
Photo albums.
My passport.
Before I left, I logged into our bank account.
I withdrew exactly what was mine — the money I earned, the money I saved.
Not a cent more.
I didn’t pay off his newest loan.
I didn’t “help one last time.”
I didn’t clean up his mess again.
I closed the door behind me and realized something that felt like oxygen:
I didn’t ruin his life.
I just stopped funding it.
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