Joe thought breakups came with shouts and shattered plates. His ended with a critique of lasagna.
For four years, Joe carried the relationship—paying bills, cooking, cleaning—while Megan “searched for meaning” online and shopped endlessly. Still, Joe believed in her. Gave her grace.
Until grace ran dry.
One quiet Thursday, Megan ended it, not with tears, but a demand for 45 more days in his home. Joe agreed, still hoping she might change.
Then he overheard her phone call.
“She thinks I’m staying for love?” Megan laughed. “I just need more time. Let him believe it.”
The betrayal cracked something in Joe. When her parents arrived to take her away, Megan hissed, “I hate you.”
Joe, calm at last, replied, “That’s fine. But you don’t get to lie to me, live off me, and expect nothing to change.”
She left. And Joe stood alone in the kitchen—finally free, quietly tasting peace for the first time.
