Little did she know, I saw Craig’s Instagram post earlier. He was smiling with a PS5 in front of him, and in the reflection of the mirror behind him, half of Sacha’s body was visible. The apology gift was real, but it was clearly something she bought on the side.
“Thanks,” I said flatly. “But I already bought my own console. It’ll be delivered tomorrow. And honestly, you didn’t do anything wrong, so there’s no need to apologize.”
Her face stiffened. "Who told you to buy it yourself?" she snapped.
I raised an eyebrow. “Do I need permission to buy something for myself?”
Since the day we’d started dating, it felt like every small decision I made needed to be cleared with her. It was as if I lost the right to pursue even the smallest pleasures. Buying a console—something as trivial as that—had somehow become an act of defiance. But when she wanted something, I wasn’t even allowed to question it. If I showed the slightest hesitation, it turned into a full-blown argument about how useless I was, how I couldn’t even meet the simplest expectations.