My Boyfriend Demanded That I Give Him My Card to Pay Our Restaurant Bill
When Lisa earns her much-deserved promotion, she wants to go out and celebrate with her boyfriend, Troy. At the restaurant, Lisa learns that Troy just wants to put on a façade and be the ‘man’—disrespecting her and her hard-earned role. But when he gives his number to a waitress, things take a turn, causing Lisa to embarrass Troy and walk out of their relationship.
It was meant to be a night of pure celebration. After six months at my new job, I had finally earned a significant promotion and was eager to share the joy with Troy, my boyfriend.
A happy smiling woman | Source: Unsplash
He suggested the new upscale restaurant in town, famous for its ambiance and gourmet menu.
“Let’s just get dressed and go out, Lisa,” he said. “We don’t do this very often, so let’s make the most of it.”
I had to agree; we rarely did this—we rarely decided to go out and indulge in anything.
The interior of a restaurant | Source: Unsplash
“Fine,” I agreed. “A night out is exactly what we need.”
And I believed that we needed it. Mainly because, as much as I wanted to believe that Troy and I were supposed to last forever, I had begun to see some cracks in our relationship. Something just felt different.
I was happy in my job, but Troy wasn’t happy in his.
A couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash
“I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me,” he said grimly one evening when he came over for salsa night.
Troy sat on the couch and dug his chips into the salsa and guacamole, complaining about work the entire evening.
Salsa and chips | Source: Pexels
It was because of his moods regarding work that I didn’t tell him anything good about my job.
“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, handing him a frozen margarita. “You just started there a few months ago.”
“Lisa, please,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand. Let me be.”
A frozen margarita on a table | Source: Pexels
But when I had gotten news of this new promotion, there was no way that I was going to keep it to myself. I wanted to celebrate and be celebrated, and I hoped that Troy would want to do just that.
To my surprise, he seemed really excited about it, and he told me that he was proud of me.
“Really, babe,” he said when he came over to my apartment to pick me up. “This is a big deal, and I’m proud of you.”
A smiling man | Source: Unsplash
The evening started beautifully. Troy showed up with a bouquet of flowers, and he sat down and waited while I got ready. Usually, he wasn’t pleased if I was still getting ready when he arrived, but this evening was different.
“Come on,” I said. “I’m ready!”
A person holding a bouquet of flowers | Source: Unsplash
Troy put his phone away and stood up, leading the way out of my apartment to where his car was waiting for us.
We drove in silence, but for once, the silence wasn’t tense—it was peaceful, and I felt that maybe Troy was changing. That he was becoming someone who wanted to be here and be present with me.
A man driving | Source: Unsplash
The soft lighting and the stunning view of the city skyline from our table set a romantic backdrop for our evening. We toasted to my success, with Troy raising his glass of champagne high.
“To the most amazing woman I know,” Troy cheered, clinking his glass against mine. “And to many more successes to come.”
Two glasses of champagne | Source: Unsplash
“To us and to the future!” I echoed, suddenly caught up in the moment.
We went through the menu and ordered our meals while Troy spoke about the shared dreams that we had—from the Bali holiday that we had been speaking about for a long time, to wanting to move in together soon.
“I just think it’s time,” Troy said. “And now that you have your promotion, it will be much easier for us.”
A person looking at a menu | Source: Unsplash
Everything went along well, until the waitress brought our food over. Troy kept glancing at her, hoping to catch her eye—he winked at her twice.
I didn’t want to make a scene about it—Troy did this whenever he had something to drink. He behaved as though being a flirt was second nature.
A meal on a table | Source: Pexels
But then, as we neared the end of our meal, I noticed a change in Troy. His usual easy smile tightened when the check was brought to our table. He smiled at the waitress as she stepped aside.
“You should let me pay with your card,” he said, a strain of insistence in his voice.
A smiling waitress | Source: Pexels
I was surprised. On the one hand, I didn’t mind paying for the dinner because it was my promotion and I was making a lot more money than I had before. But at the same time, I had also hoped that Troy would want to spoil me for the night.
“Why can’t you use your own card?” I asked, surprised by the frown on his face.
Troy’s irritation was barely concealed.
A close-up of a frowning man | Source: Unsplash
“Clearly because you’re the one who got promoted, and I don’t have enough money for these fancy dinners, Lisa! You know that, and yet you act like you don’t.”
I was confused by his logic.
“I’ll just pay with my card,” I said, putting my handbag on the table. “It’s not a big deal.”
A black handbag on a table | Source: Unsplash
My boyfriend’s face hardened as he took a sip of his whiskey—he had switched from champagne halfway through the meal.
“It’s embarrassing, Lisa,” he said. “It’s like you’re actually trying to humiliate me by not letting me be the man who pays.”
I didn’t know how to react to Troy’s words. It didn’t make sense to me. And I couldn’t understand what the waitress had to do with who was paying for our meal.
A close-up of a slightly frowning woman | Source: Unsplash
I would have retaliated and stood up for myself, but I could feel my energy being drained by Troy.
I felt cornered. And because I wanted to avoid making a scene, I reluctantly handed over my card.
Troy smirked and picked up my card, signaling for the waitress with an exaggerated flourish, presenting my card as if he were performing a grand gesture.
“I’ll be right back with the card machine,” the waitress said.
A person holding a card machine | Source: Unsplash
Feeling uneasy, I excused myself to the restroom. I just needed a moment to be myself. Troy did this all the time. But I thought that the evening was going well and that he was changing.
Of course, I was wrong.
Before thinking it through, I pulled my phone out and logged onto my banking app. With a few swipes and clicks, I had blocked my card.
Let’s see him pay now, I thought to myself.
A woman holding a phone | Source: Unsplash
On my way back, I paused near the bar, my attention caught by Troy’s laughter from across the room.
He was flirting openly with the waitress, scribbling something onto a napkin—presumably his phone number.
He handed it to her with a wink. I was stunned. I was hurt. A rush of indignation surged through me.
I returned to the table as the waitress spoke.
“I’m sorry, but there seems to be a problem,” she said. “Your card was declined.”
Troy’s confident façade crumbled as he stammered, turning away.
A man facing away from the camera | Source: Unsplash
“What?” he asked. “Surely that can’t be right.”
Feigning concern, I suggested that Troy call the bank.
He sat back in his chair and pulled out his phone, dialing the bank and putting the call on speaker.
The representative asked for the card number, which Troy read off my card, followed by a request for the account password.
Finally, Troy hesitated. He was at a loss.
A man holding a phone | Source: Unsplash
“Okay, Sir,” the person said through the phone. “If you can verify the last three transactions, it would help.”
The waitress hopped from one foot to the other.
“I can answer that,” I said. “A lavender-scented candle, some skincare products, and a new book. And Sir, the name on the card is Lisa Simmons.”
The waitress’s expression cleared with understanding, and Troy was left floundering for a response.
A person holding gift bags | Source: Unsplash
I then pulled out another card and paid the bill myself.
“Lucky I have two cards,” I told Troy and the waitress. “But babe, since you enjoyed the service, I think you can get the tip.”
Troy, red-faced, scrambled through his wallet, pulling out only expired coupons and a few small bills.
I stood up, waiting for Troy to say something—anything, but he sat there tight-lipped.
“Hey, I didn’t take his number,” the waitress said, a smirk playing on her lips. “I just threw the napkin away.”
A woman laughing | Source: Unsplash
“I’ll find my own way home,” I told Troy as I walked out into the night.
As I walked outside, I didn’t know if I had made a mistake. But at the end of the day, no relationship should make a person second guess themselves or make them feel like celebrating themselves is wrong.
Which is something that Troy did all the time.
I think I’m finally done with him.
A woman walking away | Source: Unsplash
What would you do?
Husband Changes Locks and Throws Wife Out Thinking She Cheated – She Proves Him Wrong
Newlywed bliss shatters when Sarah’s husband, Jake, accuses her of cheating after “smelling cologne” in their bedroom. Alone and humiliated, Sarah pieces together the truth — and it’s far from what Jake expected.
It had only been two weeks since Jake and I said our vows. Two weeks of riding that post-wedding glow like it was some invincible wave. It felt like we were untouchable. No one told me how quickly that feeling could collapse.
A happy woman | Source: Midjourney
Jake’s mom had the accident on a Sunday morning. I was folding laundry when he got the call. One second, he was tapping his phone on the counter, scrolling through some meme page, and the next, his face drained of color.
“Mom’s hurt,” he said, already pulling on his hoodie. “Dad accidentally hit her with the car.” His voice cracked on that last part. “Her hip… it’s bad. She needs an urgent replacement.”
I grabbed the keys for him. “I’ll drive.”
Car keys | Source: Pexels
“No, no. I’ll be faster.” His eyes met mine, wild and unfocused. “I’ll call you when I know more.”
He kissed me on the side of my head, and then he was gone. Just like that. I stood in the kitchen, the faint smell of detergent in the air, trying to process what he’d just said. His dad hit his mom with the car?
Hours later, he called to say he’d be staying at his parents’ house to help care for her post-surgery. I told him it was fine. It was. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t understand that?
A woman holding a cell phone | Source: Midjourney
Three days later, on Wednesday morning, I was halfway out the door for work when I heard the front lock turn behind me. My heart jumped. Jake?
He stepped in wearing the same hoodie and worn jeans. He grinned when he saw me, but as I hurried forward to greet him, he stopped in his tracks. His nose crinkled and his eyes darted across the apartment like he was searching for something.
“Hey, babe! I didn’t know you were coming back today,” I said.
A man in an apartment | Source: Midjourney
He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look at me, just kept scanning the place. Then his eyes locked on me, hard as stone.
“Who’s been here?” he asked, his voice sharp as a blade.
“What?” I blinked, stunned. “No one’s been here, Jake. It’s just me.”
He tilted his head toward the bedroom. “Then why does it smell like cologne in there?”
A frowning man | Source: Midjourney
I laughed, but it came out too light, too nervous. “Cologne? What are you talking about?”
“You tell me,” he shot back, stepping past me toward the bedroom. “Smells like a man’s been in here.”
I stared after him, frowning. “Maybe it’s something from outside,” I offered. “Maybe it’s… I don’t know. The windows were open all day yesterday.”
A woman shrugging | Source: Midjourney
My phone buzzed then. It was a text from a colleague letting me know the boss was looking for me.
“I’ve got to rush,” I called out. “I’m already running late and now Mrs. Thompson is asking for me! See you later, babe!”
I hurried out the door. Work was crazy that day, and I couldn’t wait to get home to Jake. I’d missed him so much while he was away. But when I got home that night, I knew something was wrong.
Apartment corridor | Source: Pexels
My key didn’t fit. I yanked it out, checked it, and tried again, but it was useless. I peered at the doorknob like a fool, and that’s when it hit me: Jake had changed the locks.
I banged on the door and called for Jake, but he didn’t reply. So I called his phone. It rang once before going straight to voicemail. I called again. Same thing. Texts went unanswered, too.
I sat on the stairs of our apartment complex, head in my hands, feeling too stunned to cry. I thought about calling the landlord, but what would I even say?
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
I had nowhere else to go, so I went to my mom’s place. She was shocked to see me, and just as confused as I was when I tried to explain why I was there.
“Why don’t you try calling Jake’s brother?” she suggested, placing a cup of tea in front of me. “Those two are so close… if anyone can help you figure out what’s going on, it’s Nick.”
“You’re right,” I muttered, wiping my eyes.
Tears in a woman’s eye | Source: Pexels
I stepped into the living room with my tea and called Nick. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hey,” I said, breathless. “Have you talked to Jake?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”
I stood up, gripping the phone tighter. “What? What are you talking about?”
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
“Look, Sarah,” he sighed like he was tired of me already. “He knows what you did. You should just own it.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth. “Are you serious right now?” I whispered. “What are you even talking about, Nick?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
He hung up.
A cell phone | Source: Pexels
I immediately texted Jake again, demanding to know why he was mad at me. This time, he replied.
“You cheated on me while I was looking after Mom. Our apartment stinks of your lover’s cologne! How dare you bring another man into our bed?”
I couldn’t believe what I was reading, but it didn’t stop there.
A woman staring at her cell phone | Source: Midjourney
Another text arrived from Jake.
“Our marriage is over! I’ve told my whole family what you’ve done…”
Tears flooded my eyes as I read all the cruel names he called me after that. Jake and I had been together for five years… how could he think I’d be unfaithful to him only two weeks into our marriage?
An emotional woman | Source: Midjourney
More texts arrived in quick succession, but these were from Jake’s mom.
“Return the ring. It’s not yours anymore. It was $19,000, and we’re not letting you walk away with it.”
My breath caught in my throat. I sat up straighter, staring at my screen in shock.
“Jake is meeting with a lawyer tomorrow. An annulment can be done quickly since it’s only been 2 weeks.”
A woman holding a cell phone | Source: Midjourney
An annulment? Before I could finish processing that, the next text arrived.
“We’ll be sending your things soon. Tell us if you’d rather have them dropped off or shipped.”
My fingers curled into the blanket on my lap, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. I kept reading the messages until I finally turned off my phone.
A woman holding a cell phone | Source: Pexels
I sat there, staring at the little gold band on my finger, wondering how we got here. Two weeks ago, we were untouchable.
I didn’t sleep that night. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. By 2 a.m., I was replaying every little detail, looking for a clue.
And then it hit me: the wipes.
A woman holding wipes | Source: Pexels
The smell in our apartment wasn’t cologne. It was the lemon-cedarwood wipes I’d taped behind the fan in our bedroom. I’d done it on purpose after cooking fish for dinner — Jake hated the smell of fish.
My heart started pounding so hard it felt like it might break my ribs. I grabbed my phone and texted him.
“Check behind the fan. Look in the bathroom trash for the packaging. It’s the wipes, Jake. It’s not cologne. It’s not a man. It’s the wipes.”
A woman texting | Source: Midjourney
Then I waited.
The next morning, I was sitting with my mom at the kitchen table, trying to act like I hadn’t just experienced the emotional collapse of my life. My coffee was cold, and I didn’t care. My phone buzzed.
Jake.
I looked up at my mom, and she nodded. “Go on, baby.”
A mature woman | Source: Midjourney
I walked to the door. Through the window, I saw him standing there. Shoulders slouched. His eyes were red. His hands shook as he wiped at his face.
He knocked once. Just once.
I opened the door but didn’t say anything. I just watched him.
“Sarah,” he choked out, his face crumpling. “I’m so sorry.”
A man standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
I folded my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Are you?”
“It was a mistake,” he said, voice cracking. “I-I let my head get… I wasn’t thinking. I just—” He looked up at me, eyes wild. “Please come home.”
My breath hitched, and before I knew it, I was stepping forward, arms wrapping around him. His warmth crashed into me, his breath shaky against my hair. Relief poured out of him in a broken sob, and for a moment, I let myself believe it was going to be okay.
A couple hugging | Source: Midjourney
I went home with Jake that evening, but I couldn’t get over what had happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about the lock change, the cruel texts, and Jake’s mom demanding my ring back like I was a thief.
The names Jake had called me circled my thoughts. One little misunderstanding was all it had taken for him and all his family to turn on me. We’d known each other for five years… we were supposed to be family.
The next night, I packed my things.
Suitcases on a bed | Source: Pexels
I carried my suitcase out into the living room, where Jake was watching TV.
“I’ve been thinking…” I started, leaning over to switch off the TV as I spoke, “about how quick you were to believe I was cheating on you, how you refused to talk things through with me, how easy it was for you to throw me out like trash.”
“Baby, I said I’m sorry.” He stared at me like he couldn’t believe this still bothered me.
A man on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
“I know, but saying sorry doesn’t mean we aren’t broken, Jake.”
“I’ll make it right, I swear! I love you.”
I shook my head, slow and steady. “Love doesn’t change the locks on me. Love doesn’t end with a text.”
His face twisted with regret. “Please.”
A sad man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m going back to my mom’s,” I said, grabbing my suitcase and heading for the door. “I need space.”
“Sarah, please!”
But I shut the door.
For the next week, he sent me long, heartbroken texts. Pages of apologies. I read them all. I didn’t reply.
A woman frowning at her phone | Source: Midjourney
I lay awake at night, thinking about it. If someone else told me this story, I’d laugh at how stupid it sounded. He thought it was cologne. It was lemon wipes. But I didn’t laugh. It wasn’t funny.
Two weeks into marriage, and I’d already learned this much: People who love you don’t turn on you that fast.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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