When Matt asked me to move in with him, it felt like the next natural step. Two years together, dinners with each other’s families, weekends away. He made more than double my nonprofit salary working in tech, and when I admitted splitting rent would stretch me thin, he smiled and said: “Forget about it. You’re going to be the mother of my kids one day. It’s my job to provide.”
It sounded romantic at the time. Old-fashioned, maybe, but sweet. I thought, he really wants to take care of me.
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