She tells me she’s been stealing for the past 9 months.
No. She’s been siphoning the funds from her employer with nonsense purchase orders.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Nothing. She just needs to tell me, let me in on the ruse.
“Are you going to stop?”
Nope. This will help us with the down payment for that house.
“You expect me to go along with this?”
Of course. She wonders why I’m not a more supportive partner.
“What if I don’t?”
Then, apparently, this isn’t working out.
“Are you breaking up with me? Just like that?”
She had to test me. If I can’t handle it, we probably shouldn’t be together.
I step back. Disbelief on my face, clouding my sense of space. I miss the first step, then stumble and hit the side of my head on the wall. I see white fading to a dark blue. When I come to, she’s standing over me. I see her face through bright yellow spots. My head is racking with pain. She’s holding a knife.