I sat on the bed, staring at the laptop screen, willing the numbers to change, but no matter how many times I refreshed the page, the truth didn’t budge—Paul had saved nothing. The savings account was empty, and my heart sank. We had made a promise, one we both agreed to: twenty percent of our income set aside every month for our future, for a family, for security. Now, it was gone—*not just the money, but the trust I had in the man I married.* I called to him, trying to keep my voice steady, but the dread built as he hesitated, then admitted he hadn’t saved anything this month, nor since we bought the house eighteen months ago. He gave excuses about credit card bills, work lunches, and a trip to Vegas, but I knew better—*money doesn’t disappear.* When I asked to see his statements, the truth spilled out: designer stores, high-end restaurants, unnecessary electronics, and cash withdrawals with no explanations.

This wasn’t a one-time mistake; it was a lifestyle, and my heart dropped as I realized how deeply he’d lied. His promises, his words, meant nothing now. I stood there, stunned, as he promised to fix it, to cut back, but how could I believe him after all the lies? The empty savings account shattered any hope of having a child anytime soon, and when he tried to brush it off, telling me we’d figure it out, I saw the depth of his disregard for what truly mattered. The promises he made, the trust I gave, felt like a distant memory. I turned away, grabbing my pillow, and walked out, my chest aching with more than anger—*disappointment.* “I thought we were partners,” I whispered as I shut the door behind me, knowing I had lost more than our savings that night—I had lost my faith in the man I married.