Chapter 1

My boyfriend, Ethan, had a childhood friend named Rachel who had racked up serious debt buying an apartment.

To help her out, Ethan lent her all the savings from our joint account.

On top of that, he demanded that I cut back on every penny right alongside them.

They set a strict rule: any purchase over five dollars required unanimous approval from all of us.

From that day on, if I wanted to add a second egg while cooking, Ethan would flatly shoot it down.

I endured all the frustration, convincing myself this scrimping would go toward our future wedding.

Until today, when Instagram popped up a post from Rachel.

"A wonderful evening with my favorite person."

I tapped on it, only to find a photo of her and Ethan together.

And behind them was a luxury hotel that cost ten thousand dollars a night.

Worse, in the corner of the frame sat a crumpled store receipt.

It clearly read: Condoms — $199.

I stared at Rachel's Instagram post.

It Instagramtantly reminded me of earlier today, when my period started.

All I wanted was to buy a pack of pads for $8.99.

Ethan had messaged back immediately.

"That brand is way too expensive. Can't you just get a cheaper one?"

The cashier was tapping her fingers, and with the long line behind me, cold sweat broke out across my palms in utter embarrassment.

I typed back quietly: "Ethan, the cheaper ones give me a rash..."

"Chloe, why are you being so delicate all of a sudden? Rachel uses the cheap ones just fine. Why can't you?"

Right on cue, Rachel jumped into the chat.

"Girls shouldn't cut corners on personal care.

Chloe, how about I Venmo you twenty bucks?

Just consider it a loan from me."

Everyone in line was giving me strange, judgmental looks.

My face burned with shame. I just wanted to get out of there.

Maybe it was because for the past three months, I'd eaten nothing but plain pasta without even daring to use extra salt.

My vision suddenly went completely pitch black, and my body pitched forward, crashing straight into the metal display shelves!

I hit the floor in a pathetic heap, my phone screen still lit beside me.

Ethan's last message in the group popped up.

"Stop throwing a tantrum. Go buy the discounted brand, it's only five bucks. Rachel literally offered to lend you the money, what else do you want?"

I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and dialed Ethan's number.

The phone rang for a long time before he finally answered.

"What's wrong? I'm talking business with a client."

His voice sounded just as gentle and composed as ever.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper.

"Is that client Rachel?"

There was a beat of silence on the other end.

"Don't overthink it. Rachel genuinely has a project she needs help with, and you know how tough things are for her on her own."

There it was again. Things are tough for her.

I didn't know when it started, but Rachel's hardships had become his ultimate excuse to walk all over me.

Before I could get a word in, he rushed to add:

"I'm slammed right now. Get some rest early, and remember to submit any spending for approval."

He brushed me off and hung up, as if I were nothing more than a brat throwing a fit.

Yet right before the line went dead, I distinctly heard Rachel's playful coo in the background.

"Ethan, who was that? Hurry, try this bite! Isn't it delicious?"

Moments later, Rachel shared a new post on her story.

She was wrapped in a plush hotel bathrobe, her head resting on Ethan's shoulder.

A second later, she sent me a direct message on Snapchat.

"Chloe, please don't be mad at Ethan.

I just took on this huge mortgage and the pressure was killing me. I really needed someone to keep me company.

Ethan was just looking out for me, we really aren't doing anything."

She even added a seemingly thoughtful remark at the end:

"The room diffuser here smells amazing. You and Ethan should totally check this place out sometime!

Though it is pretty pricey—over ten grand a night—so definitely keep budgeting carefully!"

Months of skipping meals caught up to me all at once. A sharp, violent cramp ripped through my stomach, drenching my back in cold sweat.

I struggled to pick up my phone, opening a delivery app to order a box of painkillers.

When I hit checkout, a red prompt popped up: Instagramufficient Funds.

I froze.

I opened our joint savings account. The available balance was just three dollars.

The pain was so agonizing I nearly passed out. With trembling hands, I dialed Ethan again.

He rejected the call immediately, followed by a quick Snapchat notification.

"Chloe, stop making a scene. I'm busy."

I wiped away my tears and navigated to a different conversation thread.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, my shaking fingers typed out a single sentence.

"Does your offer from before still stand?"

Almost the second I pressed send, the reply flashed back.

"It stands."

"I've made up my mind. Come pick me up."