Chapter 1The Last Thing I Learned

My girlfriend, Natalie Charlton, had one rule about everything. We always split the cost.

She believed nothing ruined a relationship faster than taking advantage of each other. She insisted that if we wanted to stay together, every expense had to be calculated and settled fairly.

For four years, we split every meal, bought our own movie tickets, and divided the cost of our Valentine's Day gifts. Whenever she bought me something, she asked me to transfer half of the money back to her.

Once, I came down with a fever of 102.2 degrees and called to ask if she could pick up some medicine and bring it to me. She sounded irritated over the phone.

"You are a grown man. You have a fever, and you still need your girlfriend to bring you medicine?"

"Did we not agree that we were each responsible for ourselves? Why should I pay for your illness?"

I braced myself against the wall and made my own way to the pharmacy.

After that, I learned to stop asking for anything. I convinced myself that a mature man should never trouble his girlfriend.

Then, just before our graduation trip, I borrowed her tablet to look up travel information. I accidentally tapped into her photo album.

It was filled with screenshots of old orders.

Couples' packages, two movie tickets, VIP passes for two to music festivals, and limited‑edition sneakers. The notes beside them repeated the same words. "He likes this."

However, the person she bought all those things for was not me. It was my best friend, Ronald Larkins.

The earliest order dated back to our first year together.

I took screenshots of the pages, then canceled my own plane ticket.

After four years together, the final thing Natalie taught me was this.

Never ask again, and never look back.

* * *

The text confirming my successful ticket refund popped up just as I put the tablet back where it belonged.

Natalie Charlton was on the balcony, talking on the phone in a low voice.

"Yeah. We can follow whichever route you like for the graduation trip.

"Him? He is not picky. He has always been easy to make plans for."

I sat stiffly at the table, unable to arrange my face into an appropriate expression.

A few minutes later, she walked back in with her phone in hand. Her tone was no different from usual.

"I booked the hotel. The location is pretty good. Let us split the room cost now."

My phone buzzed.

She had sent me a screenshot.

Three nights at the hotel. $1,700.

"Send me $570. I think it is better if we keep track of our expenses. Feelings are one thing, money is another. That is how relationships last.

"Ronald is coming with us this time, so we will split the cost three ways."

I opened my banking app, entered the amount, and sent the payment. When Natalie saw the transfer notification, the tension around her eyebrows eased. She casually opened her laptop.

"Oh, right. My apartment lease ends at the end of the month. I only rented the place temporarily because my internship was so far away.

"If we end up living together, we will need to split the rent and utilities proportionally, too.

"This is not me being stingy. It is a matter of principle.

"You get that, right, Ethan?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. I get it."

I understood. She saved all her principles for me and all her favoritism for someone else.

Natalie hummed in satisfaction, then suddenly seemed to notice something was off.

"Why are you so quiet today?"

"I am a little tired."

She did not ask any more questions. She lowered her head and continued typing.

I opened my contacts and found a number I had turned down a week earlier. It belonged to the HR representative at a design firm in Sunridge City.

When the call connected, the person on the other end sounded surprised.

"Mr. Rogers? I thought you wanted to stay here in town. Has something changed?"

I looked out the window. The wind turned the sycamore leaves over, as if they were waving a silent goodbye.

"Yes. If the position is still available, I can start in a week."

"Of course. The director really liked your portfolio. We look forward to having you on the team."

When I hung up, Natalie looked up.

"A local position?"

Before I could answer, she gave an unconcerned smile.

"We agreed we would stay here together. I did not expect you to move so quickly.

"However, let me make one thing clear. If we really move in together, the rent cannot be more than 3,000 dollars. We will split it based on our incomes.

"We should start with just the essentials for the furniture. We can wait for sales to buy the rest. And when you are choosing a company to work for, do not just look at its reputation. Think about how long it will take you to get to work, too."

She spoke seriously, as if she had already planned out every expense we would have in the future.

Suddenly, I remembered the winter of our freshman year.

We had been walking through a county fair for the first time when we came across a small stall surrounded by couples.

The vendor told us the bracelet was a silver infinity bracelet. Apparently, if a girl gave it to a guy, it symbolized a love that would never end.

The price was 68 dollars.

I had looked at it a little too long. Natalie stood beside me, frowning.

"You do not actually believe in this stuff, do you?

"It is just a stainless‑steel bracelet. They are charging people for being stupid.

"Once I start making money, I will buy you something better."

Back then, I thought she was seriously planning our future together.

In the end, I never got anything better. All I got was one social media article after another.

[A truly independent man should never let his girlfriend pay.]

[Splitting everything equally is the foundation of a lasting relationship.]

[Do not measure love through material things.]

In the end, I bought the bracelet myself. I wanted to make sure we had our forever, even if I had to do it alone.

This morning, it snapped beside the bathroom sink.

Someone knocked on the door.

Ronald stood outside, holding a shoebox.

It was a black limited‑edition box with the brand's logo printed on the side. Inside were limited‑edition sneakers from a graduation‑season collaboration.

I had just seen them in Natalie’s photo album. The price was $2,999.

The note said: [Ronald likes this colorway. Do not sign the card.]

Ronald held the shoebox out to me, his eyes bright with excitement.

"Ethan, check these out. Are they cool?

"I have no idea which mysterious friend sent them to me. I was seriously surprised."

As he spoke, he pulled out the card.

[Happy graduation, Ronald. May you always be the one who is cherished.]

"What about you? Did Natalie get you a graduation gift?"