When she needed money for inventory, I helped.
When she said her apartment was too small for her work, I helped her find a better one.
Eventually, I was paying most of the bills.
I didn’t mind.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
Then Chloe began asking for more.
“Just until the business starts making money.”
That sentence became the soundtrack of my life.
Just until.
Just one more month.
Just one more loan.
Just one more payment.
Just one more sacrifice.
And I kept saying yes.
I started working overtime.
Then night shifts.
Then weekends.
I stopped seeing friends.
I stopped visiting my mother regularly.
I stopped doing almost everything I enjoyed.
Whenever someone asked me how I was doing, I gave the same answer.
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
But I thought love required sacrifice.
I didn’t realize I was sacrificing myself.
Three years passed.
By the time I was twenty-nine, Chloe had become accustomed to everything I provided.
She no longer thanked me.
She expected it.
If the rent was due, I paid it.
If her credit card was full, I paid it.
If she wanted a vacation, I worked extra hours.
If she wanted a new phone, I found a way.
