They say love blinds you. Mine didn’t just blind me… it left me deceived, broken, and holding a bill for $8,437.63. All because I trusted a man who promised me forever while secretly planning his escape. But karma, as they say, doesn’t wear blindfolds. It fights dirty.
I met Brandon on a rainy Tuesday at a bookstore café where I worked part-time. He ordered a black coffee and asked about the novel I’d tucked under the counter. Three hours after my shift, we were still talking. His eyes crinkled when he laughed, and something about the way he listened made me feel like my words actually mattered.
“Rent in this city doesn’t pay itself,” I shrugged, trying to sound casual rather than exhausted.
“I’m a freelance app developer,” he said, sliding his business card across the table. “Just landed a big client. Maybe you won’t need two jobs much longer!”
I should’ve seen it then… the promise too good to be true, wrapped in a smile too perfect to trust.
A year later, we moved in together. The apartment wasn’t fancy, just a cozy one-bedroom with decent light and creaky floors.
“Let’s make this easy,” Brandon suggested, unpacking his laptop at our kitchen table. “I’ll handle rent and utilities since my income fluctuates. You take care of groceries, cooking… that kind of thing.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, calculating the expenses in my head. “That seems uneven.”
He took my hands, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles. “Kristen, I’m saving for our future. Every extra dollar goes straight into our house fund.”
“House fund?” My heart skipped.
“Why do you think I work those late nights? In a couple years, we’ll have enough for a down payment somewhere nice. No more landlords, no more rent. Just us.”
I kissed him, believing every word.
“Besides,” he added, grabbing another box, “this arrangement makes sense with your teaching schedule. You already have enough stress.”
For three years, that was our life. I’d come home from school, make dinner, and grade papers while Brandon worked on his apps. Sometimes he’d disappear for client meetings or coding marathons at coffee shops. I never questioned it. Never questioned him.
“Wait… are you proposing to me?” I laughed, my eyes searching his face.
He didn’t say a word… just smiled and pulled me into a tight hug as butterflies fluttered in my stomach. And I did believe in him. In us. Until the letter arrived.