Craving My Savings? No Way!

The moment I realized it, my gut reaction was denial.

Deke and I had been together for nearly three years. Solid relationship. We'd even met each other's families recently.

No way he was the scheming dirtbag from that post. Right?

I came home, still wrestling with doubt, trying to find the right moment to confront him. I didn't even get a chance to set my bag down before Deke rushed over.

"Babe, I just threw another grand into our joint account! How much are you putting in this month? You make more than me—you should be saving extra, right?"

He waved his phone excitedly, eyes filled with anticipation.

My fingers brushed the thick envelope in my bag. Three grand—my end-of-month bonus, plus a little extra for landing a big deal. I'd planned to deposit it today, bumping our savings to seventy grand.

Then I saw that post.

The thrill of my bonus? Gone.

I didn't believe in coincidences. And I wasn't dumb enough to ignore a gut feeling. Once doubt creeps in, it spreads like wildfire.

I took a deep breath and forced a few tears.

"Deke, my numbers were bad this month—no bonus. And my mom's sick, so I sent her six hundred."

I watched him carefully. His smile faded, dark eyes scanning me like I was a math problem that didn't add up.

"You always put in two or three grand. So... you're not saving anything this month?" His voice turned cold. "If you don't contribute, how am I supposed to save for a house and our wedding on my own?"

Wedding. The word nearly shattered my composure.

I wanted to drag him straight to the County Clerk's Office and pull his records myself.

Instead, I shot him a cold look, grabbed my bag, and headed to the bedroom. "So without me, you'll never buy a house or get married? Deke, stop guilt-tripping me. I told you, I don't have money this month."

His face paled for a split second before he recovered. Then he followed me in. "Zoey, I've been saving for two years—for us. Why are you acting like marriage is only my responsibility? Don't you have a part in this too?"

His voice wavered. Defensive.

I scoffed, dropping into my desk chair. "You can still get married without me, can't you?"

I knew confronting him outright was pointless. He'd deny everything, maybe even flip it on me—call me paranoid, insecure.

No, I needed him to confess on his own.

***

When I didn't respond, Deke grabbed my arm.

"You make at least two grand a month. Even after sending your mom six hundred, you should still have money left."