Bills disappeared before I could see them.
Packages arrived at the door, and I never checked the price tags.
It felt like someone was finally looking out for me.
Then one afternoon, maybe three months in, he slid a bank card across the kitchen counter.
“This is for you.
It’s easier this way,” he said casually.
I didn’t argue.
Why would I?
He sounded completely reasonable.
The first time the card declined, I was standing at the register holding diapers and formula.
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