It was always framed as temporary. Just a few days here and there. Conferences, client meetings, last-minute flights. I never questioned it because he never gave me a reason to. He sent photos from airports. Complained about hotel beds. Texted me when he landed. It all looked normal.
The moment everything cracked wasn’t dramatic. It was stupidly small. He mentioned being in Chicago for a work thing. I asked him how the weather was because I’d just seen a storm warning pop up on my phone. He paused. Then said it was fine. Clear. Cold, but fine.
Later that night, I checked the weather again out of pure boredom. No storm. No warning. I brushed it off, told myself I misread it. But that pause stayed with me.
After that, I started noticing little inconsistencies. Dates that didn’t line up. Flights that didn’t match what he said his schedule was. Hotel names that changed when he retold the same story. Nothing concrete, but enough that my stomach felt tight whenever he packed a bag.
When I finally confronted him, he didn’t deny it for long. He just looked tired. Said it wasn’t supposed to happen. Said it didn’t mean anything. Said he didn’t want to hurt me. I didn’t cry right away. I felt numb. Like someone had quietly pulled a rug out from under my entire reality.
The breakup itself was awful, but the aftermath was worse. Untangling finances, subscriptions, shared expenses. Realizing how much I’d let run in the background because I trusted him completely. It made me realize how much I relied on assumptions instead of visibility, not just with him, but with money too.
After everything blew up, I started forcing myself to be more aware instead of blindly trusting systems to “just work.” I hate that it took betrayal to make me realize this, but trusting someone doesn’t mean turning off awareness. Whether it’s people or money. Sometimes the thing that breaks you isn’t the lie itself. It’s realizing how long you believed it without checking.
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