My Boyfriend Demanded That I Give Him My Card to Pay Our Restaurant Bill

My Boyfriend Demanded That I Give Him My Card to Pay Our Restaurant Bill

When Lisa earns her much-deserved promotion, she wants to go out and celebrate with her boyfriend, Troy. At the restaurant, Lisa learns that Troy just wants to put on a façade and be the ‘man’—disrespecting her and her hard-earned role. But when he gives his number to a waitress, things take a turn, causing Lisa to embarrass Troy and walk out of their relationship.

It was meant to be a night of pure celebration. After six months at my new job, I had finally earned a significant promotion and was eager to share the joy with Troy, my boyfriend.

A happy smiling woman | Source: Unsplash

A happy smiling woman | Source: Unsplash

He suggested the new upscale restaurant in town, famous for its ambiance and gourmet menu.

“Let’s just get dressed and go out, Lisa,” he said. “We don’t do this very often, so let’s make the most of it.”

I had to agree; we rarely did this—we rarely decided to go out and indulge in anything.

The interior of a restaurant | Source: Unsplash

The interior of a restaurant | Source: Unsplash

“Fine,” I agreed. “A night out is exactly what we need.”

And I believed that we needed it. Mainly because, as much as I wanted to believe that Troy and I were supposed to last forever, I had begun to see some cracks in our relationship. Something just felt different.

I was happy in my job, but Troy wasn’t happy in his.

A couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash

A couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash

“I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me,” he said grimly one evening when he came over for salsa night.

Troy sat on the couch and dug his chips into the salsa and guacamole, complaining about work the entire evening.

Salsa and chips | Source: Pexels

Salsa and chips | Source: Pexels

It was because of his moods regarding work that I didn’t tell him anything good about my job.

“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, handing him a frozen margarita. “You just started there a few months ago.”

“Lisa, please,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand. Let me be.”

A frozen margarita on a table | Source: Pexels

A frozen margarita on a table | Source: Pexels

But when I had gotten news of this new promotion, there was no way that I was going to keep it to myself. I wanted to celebrate and be celebrated, and I hoped that Troy would want to do just that.

To my surprise, he seemed really excited about it, and he told me that he was proud of me.

“Really, babe,” he said when he came over to my apartment to pick me up. “This is a big deal, and I’m proud of you.”

A smiling man | Source: Unsplash

A smiling man | Source: Unsplash

The evening started beautifully. Troy showed up with a bouquet of flowers, and he sat down and waited while I got ready. Usually, he wasn’t pleased if I was still getting ready when he arrived, but this evening was different.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m ready!”

A person holding a bouquet of flowers | Source: Unsplash

A person holding a bouquet of flowers | Source: Unsplash

Troy put his phone away and stood up, leading the way out of my apartment to where his car was waiting for us.

We drove in silence, but for once, the silence wasn’t tense—it was peaceful, and I felt that maybe Troy was changing. That he was becoming someone who wanted to be here and be present with me.

A man driving | Source: Unsplash

A man driving | Source: Unsplash

The soft lighting and the stunning view of the city skyline from our table set a romantic backdrop for our evening. We toasted to my success, with Troy raising his glass of champagne high.

“To the most amazing woman I know,” Troy cheered, clinking his glass against mine. “And to many more successes to come.”

Two glasses of champagne | Source: Unsplash

Two glasses of champagne | Source: Unsplash

“To us and to the future!” I echoed, suddenly caught up in the moment.

We went through the menu and ordered our meals while Troy spoke about the shared dreams that we had—from the Bali holiday that we had been speaking about for a long time, to wanting to move in together soon.

“I just think it’s time,” Troy said. “And now that you have your promotion, it will be much easier for us.”

A person looking at a menu | Source: Unsplash

A person looking at a menu | Source: Unsplash

Everything went along well, until the waitress brought our food over. Troy kept glancing at her, hoping to catch her eye—he winked at her twice.

I didn’t want to make a scene about it—Troy did this whenever he had something to drink. He behaved as though being a flirt was second nature.

A meal on a table | Source: Pexels

A meal on a table | Source: Pexels

But then, as we neared the end of our meal, I noticed a change in Troy. His usual easy smile tightened when the check was brought to our table. He smiled at the waitress as she stepped aside.

“You should let me pay with your card,” he said, a strain of insistence in his voice.

A smiling waitress | Source: Pexels

A smiling waitress | Source: Pexels

I was surprised. On the one hand, I didn’t mind paying for the dinner because it was my promotion and I was making a lot more money than I had before. But at the same time, I had also hoped that Troy would want to spoil me for the night.

“Why can’t you use your own card?” I asked, surprised by the frown on his face.

Troy’s irritation was barely concealed.

A close-up of a frowning man | Source: Unsplash

A close-up of a frowning man | Source: Unsplash

“Clearly because you’re the one who got promoted, and I don’t have enough money for these fancy dinners, Lisa! You know that, and yet you act like you don’t.”

I was confused by his logic.

“I’ll just pay with my card,” I said, putting my handbag on the table. “It’s not a big deal.”

A black handbag on a table | Source: Unsplash

A black handbag on a table | Source: Unsplash

My boyfriend’s face hardened as he took a sip of his whiskey—he had switched from champagne halfway through the meal.

“It’s embarrassing, Lisa,” he said. “It’s like you’re actually trying to humiliate me by not letting me be the man who pays.”

I didn’t know how to react to Troy’s words. It didn’t make sense to me. And I couldn’t understand what the waitress had to do with who was paying for our meal.

A close-up of a slightly frowning woman | Source: Unsplash

A close-up of a slightly frowning woman | Source: Unsplash

I would have retaliated and stood up for myself, but I could feel my energy being drained by Troy.

I felt cornered. And because I wanted to avoid making a scene, I reluctantly handed over my card.

Troy smirked and picked up my card, signaling for the waitress with an exaggerated flourish, presenting my card as if he were performing a grand gesture.

“I’ll be right back with the card machine,” the waitress said.

A person holding a card machine | Source: Unsplash

A person holding a card machine | Source: Unsplash

Feeling uneasy, I excused myself to the restroom. I just needed a moment to be myself. Troy did this all the time. But I thought that the evening was going well and that he was changing.

Of course, I was wrong.

Before thinking it through, I pulled my phone out and logged onto my banking app. With a few swipes and clicks, I had blocked my card.

Let’s see him pay now, I thought to myself.

A woman holding a phone | Source: Unsplash

A woman holding a phone | Source: Unsplash

On my way back, I paused near the bar, my attention caught by Troy’s laughter from across the room.

He was flirting openly with the waitress, scribbling something onto a napkin—presumably his phone number.

He handed it to her with a wink. I was stunned. I was hurt. A rush of indignation surged through me.

I returned to the table as the waitress spoke.

“I’m sorry, but there seems to be a problem,” she said. “Your card was declined.”

Troy’s confident façade crumbled as he stammered, turning away.

A man facing away from the camera | Source: Unsplash

A man facing away from the camera | Source: Unsplash

“What?” he asked. “Surely that can’t be right.”

Feigning concern, I suggested that Troy call the bank.

He sat back in his chair and pulled out his phone, dialing the bank and putting the call on speaker.

The representative asked for the card number, which Troy read off my card, followed by a request for the account password.

Finally, Troy hesitated. He was at a loss.

A man holding a phone | Source: Unsplash

A man holding a phone | Source: Unsplash

“Okay, Sir,” the person said through the phone. “If you can verify the last three transactions, it would help.”

The waitress hopped from one foot to the other.

“I can answer that,” I said. “A lavender-scented candle, some skincare products, and a new book. And Sir, the name on the card is Lisa Simmons.”

The waitress’s expression cleared with understanding, and Troy was left floundering for a response.

A person holding gift bags | Source: Unsplash

A person holding gift bags | Source: Unsplash

I then pulled out another card and paid the bill myself.

“Lucky I have two cards,” I told Troy and the waitress. “But babe, since you enjoyed the service, I think you can get the tip.”

Troy, red-faced, scrambled through his wallet, pulling out only expired coupons and a few small bills.

I stood up, waiting for Troy to say something—anything, but he sat there tight-lipped.

“Hey, I didn’t take his number,” the waitress said, a smirk playing on her lips. “I just threw the napkin away.”

A woman laughing | Source: Unsplash

A woman laughing | Source: Unsplash

“I’ll find my own way home,” I told Troy as I walked out into the night.

As I walked outside, I didn’t know if I had made a mistake. But at the end of the day, no relationship should make a person second guess themselves or make them feel like celebrating themselves is wrong.

Which is something that Troy did all the time.

I think I’m finally done with him.

A woman walking away | Source: Unsplash

A woman walking away | Source: Unsplash

What would you do?

My Ex Left Me with His Son from a Previous Marriage 10 Years Ago — Yesterday, He Showed Up in My Yard with a Lawyer

Ten years after vanishing, Sara’s ex-fiancé, Daniel, reappears on her doorstep with a lawyer, demanding custody of the son he’d abandoned. Secrets unravel as Sara fights to protect the life she built with Adam, and the true reason behind Daniel’s sudden return threatens everything.

Yesterday, while Adam got ready for school upstairs, I savored my last sip of coffee when the doorbell rang. I assumed it was a neighbor or the mailman.

But when I opened the door, my heart lurched.

Daniel.

I hadn’t thought about him in years, except in fleeting moments when Adam asked about his father. But this was not how I imagined seeing him again.

He stood there, ten years older but unchanged. Next to him was a man in an expensive suit, clutching a folder.

“Why are you here?” I croaked.

Daniel cut to the chase. “I’m here to take back my son.”

My heart stopped. After a decade of silence, he thought he could waltz back and take Adam away?

“You’re not taking him,” I whispered. “You have no right.”

Daniel’s lawyer stepped forward, handing me the folder. “Ma’am, you’ve been served.”

My hands shook as I read the legal jargon: custody, contest, court. My life with Adam, built over ten years, was about to unravel.

Ten years ago

Daniel had swept into my life, bringing his three-year-old son, Adam, from his previous marriage. He was charming but broken, and I thought I could fix him. Adam was the best part, and I became his stepmom, feeling like I belonged.

Then one morning, I woke up to an empty bed. I thought he might’ve gone for a run, but hours passed with no sign of him. Panic set in when I found the note: “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

I was left to explain to Adam that his daddy was gone. He didn’t cry but said, “Daddy said he’d come back one day.” Weeks turned into months, and Adam stopped asking.

After Daniel left, I faced a nightmare. Child Protective Services got involved, and as a stepmom, I had no legal rights. They didn’t care that I was the only mother Adam knew. I fought tirelessly, enduring sleepless nights and endless court dates, and in the end, I won. I adopted Adam legally and vowed no one would take him from me again.

The present day

Staring at the legal papers, rage and fear washed over me.

“Mom?” Adam’s hesitant voice broke through my thoughts. I realized he had overheard everything.

“It’s nothing,” I lied, forcing a smile. But it wasn’t fine.

I hired a lawyer, determined to protect Adam. As the case unfolded, we discovered Daniel’s true motive: Adam’s grandfather had recently passed down a large inheritance, and Daniel wanted custody to get his hands on Adam’s money.

The court hearing came quickly. My lawyer, Judith, prepped me for the questions, but nothing prepared me for seeing Daniel again. His lawyer argued that Daniel, as Adam’s biological father, had the right to custody, painting him as a man ready to step up.

But Judith laid out the truth: Daniel hadn’t been a part of Adam’s life for ten years. Then she revealed the inheritance, stating Daniel was motivated by greed, not love.

The judge turned to Adam. “You’re thirteen now; I want to hear from you.”

Adam stood, surprising everyone. “Sara has been my mom for ten years. I don’t know the man sitting there. I want to stay with the only person who has ever cared for me.”

The courtroom fell silent.

The judge nodded, her expression softening. “Your decision is clear.” With that, the gavel came down. Adam would stay with me.

Daniel left the courtroom, a defeated shadow of the man I once loved.

Outside, Adam turned to me, smiling. “I’m glad it’s over, Mom.”

“Me too,” I whispered, pulling him into a tight embrace.

As we walked down the courthouse steps, Adam asked, “What do we do with the inheritance now?”

I smiled softly. “That money is yours, Adam. I’ll never take a cent of it. It’s for your future.”

He looked up, his eyes full of warmth. “My future is with you, Mom.”

This work is inspired by real events but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental. The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or character portrayals and are not liable for any misinterpretation.

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*