For months I paid for dinners, gifts, and even his emergencies, until I accidentally overheard the cruelest taunt: “You’re just free food”; the worst part wasn’t the humiliation, but discovering that all his gestures had been an act.

I stood completely motionless with my hand still resting on the cake box as I felt everything finally settle inside of my mind. It was not a moment of confusion or doubt because the clarity of the situation was suddenly as sharp as a surgical blade.

At that moment, I understood exactly who Mitch was and he had absolutely no idea what was about to happen next. I did not go into the bedroom to confront them or throw the expensive cake in his face despite the brief impulse to do so.

I decided that ninety dollars of fine chocolate was not going to be wasted on a man who could not tell the difference between love and convenience. I went back to the kitchen to place the box neatly on the counter before I pulled out my cell phone to take care of business.

Six weeks prior, I had made a very expensive reservation for his birthday at a luxury restaurant that Mitch loved to brag about to his coworkers. It was one of those places with dim lighting and a tasting menu that required a massive non-refundable deposit.