What Happened to Him — And What Happened to Me
Once my income disappeared, his second life started collapsing fast.
Tuition payments missed.
Rent overdue.
Creditors calling.
Lena kicked him out.
The fantasy broke.
And for the first time in years, the consequences were finally his — not mine.
I moved into a small one-bedroom downtown.
Squeaky floors. Nothing fancy.
But mine.
I started therapy.
I still work hard — but now it’s by choice, not because I’m bleeding myself to keep someone else comfortable.
I’m saving for a road trip next spring.
Just me. Open road. No lies.
Sometimes I catch myself calculating what I lost.
But the real cost wasn’t money.
It was how little I gave myself while giving him everything.
Now every dollar I earn stays where it belongs:
In my account.
In my life.
In my future.
Here’s the real question: how many sacrifices does it take before you realize you’re the only one making them?
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