The favors started small: “Can you fix my Wi-Fi?” or “My car won’t start.” But soon, it grew into rides, help with her lease, and endless rescues. Every time, he said yes.
I told him it made me uncomfortable. He brushed it off: “She doesn’t have anyone else.” I tried to understand—until the night she called during our anniversary dinner about a leaking sink. He left, and I sat alone, realizing our marriage felt like a waiting room. That night, something shifted.
A few days later, my ex texted me about a charity event. I agreed to help and mentioned it casually over dinner. His jaw tightened. Then I added I planned to meet my ex for coffee. “You’re not seriously going?” he asked. “Why not?” I replied. “He just needs a friend.”
For the first time, I saw understanding flicker in his eyes. That night he went quiet—thoughtful, maybe embarrassed.
The next morning, he showed me a message he had sent Sarah: “I can’t keep fixing everything for you.” He didn’t love how I’d made my point, but he finally understood. Sometimes, the only way to teach boundaries is to let someone feel what it’s like to live without them.
⸻
