I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the silence between Michael and me growing louder by the second. The restaurant was dimly lit, intimate in a way that might have felt romantic if it weren’t for the weight of everything we weren’t saying. I hadn’t even touched my wine. Across from me, Michael swirled his glass lazily, looking everywhere except at me.
“Michael,” I began, trying to steady my voice. “I can’t keep doing this. We need to talk about… us.”
His eyes flicked up, dark and sharp, narrowing with irritation.
​“Damn, Lani. Do we have to ruin dinner with this again? You know I’ve been stressed.”
Stressed. It was always the same excuse. Stressed because he’d lost another job. Stressed because I’d asked him to pick up a bill, or two. Stressed because I dared to expect something from him, anything at all.”
​ I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, determined not to let him gaslight me into silence. “I’m not trying to ruin anything, Michael. But this… this isn’t working.”
​“What isn’t working?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I’ve been here, haven’t I? Supporting you, cheering you on. I don’t know what else you want from me.”
​“Supporting me?” My laugh came out sharp, humorless.
​“Michael, I’ve been paying your rent. I’ve been covering your car insurance. Hell, I’m the one who paid for this dinner!”
​ He flinched, but only for a second. His features quickly smoothed into that infuriating calm I had grown to despise. “So now you’re gonna throw that in my face? That’s real classy, Lani.”
​ My hands curled into fists beneath the table, nails digging into my palms.
“You don’t even see it, do you? I’ve been breaking my back to keep this relationship alive, and you’ve done nothing, but take. I’ve put everything into us, my time, my money, my energy, and you…” my voice cracked, “You’ve given me nothing, but excuses and lies.”
​“Lies?” Michael’s voice rose, drawing a few glances from nearby tables. “Oh, so now I’m a liar, too? Maybe if you weren’t so damn controlling, I wouldn’t feel like I have to keep things from you.”
​“Controlling?” My voice wavered between a laugh and a sob. “Asking you to contribute is controlling? Wanting honesty is controlling? Michael, you hit me.”
​ There it was. The words hung in the air. Heavy and undeniable.
​For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he leaned forward, his expression darkening, “You’re blowing that out of proportion. It was one time, Lani. One mistake. You’re really gonna throw everything away over that?”
​My heart shattered all over again, the pieces scattering across the floor of the restaurant. “You don’t get it,” I whispered. “It’s not just about you hitting me. It’s about everything. You’ve drained me, Michael. You’ve taken, and taken, and taken until there’s nothing left.”
​I pushed my chair back and stood, grabbing my purse with shaking hands. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging in hard enough to make me flinch.
​“You’re bein’ dramatic,” he sneered. “You really think you’re gonna find somebody better than me? Please. Good luck with that, Lani. You ain’t nearly as special as you think you are.”
​ Michael nonchalantly swirled his wine glass, never breaking eye contact.
​ “Your body? Below average at best. Took everything in me just to fake wantin’ you. You think I stuck around ’cause I was into you? Nah. I needed a return on my investment.You really believe you pulled me? With what? Your smile? Your personality? Babygirl, I saw you comin’ a mile away. Knew you were desperate, and payin’ like you weigh, so yeah, I hopped on for the ride. Don’t get it twisted. This was always my game. You can be done, sure, but only ’cause I’m lettin’ you go. Understand that.”
​ Tears streamed down my face as I wrenched my arm free and walked away. Everything was a blur after his scalding truth. My mind was in shock, while my body moved on autopilot. One second I was standing there, feeling the last shreds of my dignity being stripped away with every word out of Michael’s mouth. The next, I was outside blinking against the cold night air. My heels clattered uselessly on the pavement as I half-walked, half-ran down the street, barely able to see through the tears burning my eyes.
God, I felt like such a fool.
​I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold something, anything together. But it was useless. I could still hear his voice, cold and clinical, replaying over and over in my head. Like I was some cash cow he was finally tired of pretending to care about. Like giving me scraps of his affection had been some kind of favor.
​I gave him everything. My time. My trust. My body. And all he saw when he looked at me was someone he couldn’t even stand to touch.
​Humiliation twisted in my gut, thick and poisonous. How had I let it get this far? How had I been so blind? I had wanted it to be real so badly I’d ignored every sign, every half-hearted kiss, every time he pulled away like I might contaminate him if he got too close.
​I stumbled up the stairs to my building, my vision swimming. I don’t even remember unlocking the door. It was muscle memory, push, turn, step inside.​The second the door clicked shut behind me, my knees gave out. ​I collapsed onto the living room floor, not even bothering to move further. The silence of the apartment wrapped around me like a shroud, heavy and suffocating. I stayed there, curled up, my dress wrinkling under me, makeup streaking my face, my heart shattered into pieces too small to ever put back together.
​The smell of the restaurant clung to me, perfume, wine, humiliation.
​I buried my face in my arms, and let the sobs tear out of me, raw and broken. No careful crying, no composed sniffles, this was the ugly kind. The kind that shook my whole body until my ribs hurt. The kind that left stains on the carpet.
​I felt disgusting.
Used.
Unwanted.
Unlovable.
​I hated him. I hated myself more.
​I don’t know how long I lay there. Minutes? Hours?Time lost meaning because the only thing I could feel was pain.Eventually, exhaustion numbed the worst of it. But I stayed where I was, still in the dress I’d picked so carefully for him, still in the heels I’d worn as a last-ditch effort to make him see what he’d be missing. That backfired and added an additional layer of embarrassment to the ordeal. I stayed in that spot because moving meant acknowledging that all of it had been real. I didn’t want to face that yet. I wasn’t sure if I ever could.
​ That night was the end, but the scars Michael left on my life were far from healed.
​In the weeks that followed, he called me relentlessly, alternating between apologies and threats. He showed up at my apartment uninvited, pounding on the door and threatening to harm me and himself. When I didn’t answer, he left nasty voicemails, tearing me down for every imagined flaw.
​“You’re selfish, Lani. Always playing the victim. You’ll never find someone like me who wants your fat ass for you.”
​That much, at least, was true. I’d never find someone like him again, because I’d never allow it.
​But Michael wasn’t content to let me go quietly. He spread rumors among our mutual friends, painting me as a manipulative, ungrateful partner who didn’t appreciate all he’d done for me. I lost more than a few friendships in the fallout, people who believed his lies or simply didn’t want to take sides.
​It wasn’t until later, when I found myself standing in the aisle of a grocery store with my card declined, that the full extent of the damage hit me. Michael had drained our shared savings account before I had the chance to close it. I stared at the cashier, heat rising to my cheeks as the line behind me grew restless. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, abandoning my cart and bolting for the exit.
​That night, I sat in the dark of my tiny apartment, staring at the stack of bills I couldn’t pay. Every sacrifice I’d made for Michael felt like a cruel joke, the universe laughing at my naivety.
​But somewhere in the middle of my despair, something shifted.
​This wasn’t going to be my story. I wouldn’t let Michael define me or my future. I had spent so long pouring myself into a man who didn’t deserve me, and it was time to start pouring into myself.
​Over the next two years, I rebuilt my life from the ground up. I moved to a new apartment, started therapy, and threw myself into my baking. What had once been a hobby became my salvation. It was a way to reclaim my joy and independence.
​ My small online shop grew steadily. Each order was a reminder that I was capable of standing on my own two feet. I swore off dating entirely, telling myself I didn’t need a man to complete me. And yet, in my quietest moments, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was still a part of me that wanted to believe in love. ​Not the kind of love Michael had offered, empty, selfish, and conditional, but something real. Something that didn’t take more than it gave.
​ I wasn’t ready to look for it. Maybe I never would be.
 But if it found me…
​ Well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.