He didn’t shout. He didn’t accuse.
He just sighed, wrapped his arms around her, and said, “I wish you’d trusted me.”
The guilt was crushing.
The next morning, exhausted and desperate to make amends, she handed him her entire month’s salary.
“Please,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. Use it for something nice. For us.”
He kissed her forehead and thanked her.
That afternoon, he left the house.
And used the money to buy a gift for his girlfriend—
the one saved in his phone as:
“Uncle Mike the mechanic.”
