I grabbed my purse and ran for the door, tears streaming down my face.
Ben followed me outside, apologizing over and over, but the damage was done.
Later that week, he told me the truth in a voice that sounded like surrender.
“They threatened to cut me off financially.”
“If I marry you, I lose everything. My trust fund, my job at Dad’s firm, all of it.”
“Then choose me,” I whispered. “We’ll figure it out together.”
He looked at me with so much pain in his eyes.
“I want to, Steph. God, I want to. But I can’t.”
And that was it.
The man I thought I’d spend my life with chose money over me.
The breakup shattered me in ways I didn’t know were possible.
I stopped going to our favorite coffee shop because everything reminded me of him.
I deleted all our photos.
I threw myself into work and tried to convince myself I was fine.
My best friend Maya kept me updated on Ben’s life, even when I told her I didn’t want to know.
“His parents set him up with a girl named Mia,” she said one day over lunch. “She’s exactly what they wanted. Slim, from a good family, works in fashion.”
I forced a smile. “Good for him.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“No,” I admitted. “But what else can I say?”
Months passed.
I started therapy.
I started believing maybe I could be happy without Ben.
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