My Ten Year Down Payment Became His New Bike

The year-end bonus hit my account, and the very next second, a text message flashed across my screen: “Your account has been debited $195,286. Balance: $3.26. Vendor: Revolver Cycles.” Immediately, my landlord’s name popped up. “Jillian, rent is due tomorrow. That’s $2,500 total, including utilities.” My hands were shaking as I dialed Aaron’s number. I could hear the excitement in his voice when he answered. “Babe! How did you know I bought a new bike? Hold on, I’m on my way—we’re going for a ride!” “Aaron, did you just use our house down payment on a new motorcycle?” He was completely oblivious, launching into a giddy monologue about how sleek and powerful the machine was. I was too exhausted to fight. “Aaron, we’re breaking up.”

His cheerful voice faltered, replaced by an edge of disbelief. “Honey, are you high? That’s not funny!” I stared at the screen, at the numbers confirming the obliteration of our future. Ten years. From eighteen to twenty-eight. We had talked endlessly about having a home, a space of our own. I’d scraped and saved, haunting the late-night produce markets just to save a few quarters. But every single time we managed to save anything substantial, Aaron would trigger. Now, the down payment was finally within reach, and in one careless swipe, the dream was shattered. “Aaron, do you remember what we agreed the joint account was for?” A pause. “Jillian, I just wanted to surprise you! The house isn’t going anywhere, but this model? If I didn’t grab it now, it would’ve been discontinued!” He rushed on, trying to sell the dream. “And listen to this—I joined a club! They said they’d be the entourage for our wedding. Think how epic that’ll be!” “Gotta run, babe, I’m almost there!” He hung up before I could speak again, and my heart dropped like a stone. I could picture his flushed, boyish face and the way he’d preen, even through the screen. The weight of a thousand small disappointments had finally coalesced, completely dissolving the last shred of my resolve. He arrived half an hour later. Aaron leaned against the enormous, gleaming black bike, dressed in fresh leather and dark sunglasses. He looked every bit the charming, slightly dangerous bad boy, drawing admiring glances from every girl passing by. “Check it out, babe, isn’t she sweet? I’ve been eyeing this one forever. Today, I finally got her!” “And I was talking to the guys…” “Enough.” I cut him off, the word flat and final. “Aaron, I’m tired. I can’t do this anymore.” I met his eyes calmly. “You know all I’ve ever wanted was a home. But you spent every dime we had. Rent is due tomorrow. Can your motorcycle keep us from being evicted?” He laughed, a sharp, dismissive sound. “Is that what this is about? Just money? You always said you were fine with a barefoot wedding!” He stepped toward me, exasperated. “A mortgage will just chain us down. We wouldn’t be free to travel! Jillian, you always said we were soulmates. Why are you suddenly so hung up on bills? Rent can be a few days late! You only live three thousand days—why make it so hard?” I shook my head slowly. “I don’t want to wait anymore. And I especially don’t want to be locked out of my apartment in the middle of winter.” “Aaron…” “Fine! I get it! It’s the rent, the utilities, the down payment! I’ll return the damn thing, okay?” He violently kicked the tire of the bike in frustration. Watching him, I felt a deep sense of alienation. I turned and walked away. “Jillian!” His shout followed me, but I didn’t look back. Ten years. We’d broken up and made up countless times, each time patching things up, hoping to keep going. But this time, the pieces wouldn’t stick. I checked my phone, scrolling past saved images of kitchen tiles and paint samples, and then paused. I kept the files. Aaron didn’t want to settle down, but I did. My colleague Brenda’s text notification popped up. “Jillian, are you still considering that transfer? It’s thirty percent higher pay. It’s a city away, but you’d still be able to visit on weekends.” I had politely declined the transfer three months ago because I wanted to buy the house here. I wanted stability. Now, I called her immediately. “Brenda, I’m in. Please put in the paperwork now. If possible, I can start the day after tomorrow.” Brenda sounded surprised. “Wow, slow down, kid. You sure? Did you talk to your boyfriend?” “No need. We broke up.” Brenda was silent for a moment. “Okay. I’ll submit the application right now. The approval should come through tomorrow. Get ready—you’ll report in at the new division first thing.” I agreed, hung up, and took a deep, shaky breath. Then I remembered. I had to terminate the lease. I called Aaron, but he didn’t answer. “Aaron, I’m moving out and terminating my part of the lease. You figure out the rent.” I texted the landlord, informing her I was moving out and that Aaron would need to sort out a new arrangement if he wanted to stay. I immediately started packing. The new office was in the next city over—a sixteen-minute commuter train ride—not terribly far, but I was on a strict timetable. We’d been together for a decade, and our lives were thoroughly intertwined; separating our things wasn’t easy. I grabbed my absolute necessities, sold everything else I could on marketplace apps, and gave away a lot of the junk we’d accumulated. Gifts, old furniture, anything that carried a memory of us. Within an hour, my phone buzzed with transfer notifications, and a courier was on his way. The living room instantly felt emptier. It was already past midnight when I finally collapsed on the sofa, breathing out a sigh of relief, my eyes burning with fatigue. Aaron still wasn’t back. I had less than $600 to my name. I needed money for the move, a deposit for a place to live, and groceries. It wasn’t enough. I used a quick-loan app and managed to borrow $1,500. The second it hit my personal account, I transferred it to the joint account, thinking I could get a money order later. The very next moment, a text from Aaron: “Babe, I knew you couldn’t stay mad! Thanks for the $1,500. Don’t worry, I’ll remember to pay the rent this time! I already reached out to the landlord. Deposit secured.” My first instinct was to deny it, to take the money back. But I stopped myself. Let him keep the apartment if he wants. I’m gone. “Transfer $700 back to me. I need it urgently.” Aaron didn’t reply. I called; no answer. My control snapped. He was lightning fast when money was coming in, but completely unreachable when I needed it back. I was furious, but it was too late to do anything. I just hoped I had enough for the train ticket. The next morning, Brenda confirmed the transfer was approved. I needed to report in by 10 AM the following day. Aaron still hadn’t responded. I checked his social media and saw a live video: he was riding the bike on a winding canyon road, racing with a gang of riders. His face flashed past, reckless and bright, laughing like the star he always thought he was. He was surrounded by a crowd of men and women looking at him with adoration. Aaron loved that spotlight, that thrill. But that lifestyle was bankrolled by my tight-fisted budgeting. I saved up for a decent laptop; he spent it on a high-end camera, promising to take beautiful travel photos. Ten years later, we’d only taken cheap weekend trips, and the camera was gathering dust in a drawer. I saved $30,000 for an early deposit; he booked a luxury cruise, calling it our seventh-anniversary celebration. He held my hand, saying, Jillian, you always wanted a destination wedding—this is how we start. I couldn’t bear to see him disappointed, so I told myself we could save again. This time, I had the full down payment, the agreed-upon price on the perfect condo, and the appointment was set. Aaron had obliterated the entire plan. His future was all about the immediate rush. There was zero room for risk management or actual adult responsibility. I couldn’t keep paying for his freedom. With a long, weary sigh, I texted him the final word: “We are over.” Then I blocked his number. I terminated the lease with the landlord, packed my final bag, and caught the train. Brenda texted me the new company address and a welcome note, adding that company dorms were available. Saved me rent. I arrived in the busy terminal city. As I emerged from the crowded station, I realized my coat had been slashed. Feathers were flying out, and my phone was gone. A wave of cold dread washed over me. All my work contacts, all the company data, and most importantly, the new office address—all gone. I only remembered the street name: Harper Way. I found the transit police, explaining the situation. I spent nearly three hours borrowing their phone to suspend my accounts and wipe my data. It started to snow, and the tears I’d been holding back finally streamed down my face. A kind female officer, seeing my distress, slipped me two $100 bills. I thanked her profusely, took her number, and raced off toward the general direction of the new office. After finally reporting in, getting a room, and buying a cheap new phone, I was finally safe enough to check my messages. A string of texts from Aaron awaited me, sent before I blocked his new number: “Jillian, what are you doing? I said I’d pay the rent. Why did you just abandon me?” “How could you be so cold? The landlord said you canceled the lease. What am I supposed to do now?” “Fine, stop being dramatic. Just send me $1,200 for this month’s rent and deposit. I want to keep the place.” I calmly flipped the phone face down and opened my laptop to start restoring my files. The dorm was bare, freezing cold, and had no heating. I huddled under the blanket. The snow continued outside; it felt as cold inside as out. I reviewed the company data, absorbing the details of my new job until late into the night. My stomach growled. I felt feverish and my head was pounding—definitely a cold. I ordered takeout and medicine, then decided to boil some water. The second I plugged the kettle in, the breaker blew. Sparks flew. I nearly screamed. Plunged into darkness, I heard a knock at the door. “Delivery!” I fumbled for my phone and turned on the flashlight. The moment I opened the door, a figure burst past me, slamming me against the wall and clamping a hand around my throat. “Cooperate. I just want the money. Give me everything!” The cold air rushed in, carrying the stink of cheap liquor. I struggled, my flashlight beam wildly swinging. In the darkness, I grabbed the nearest solid object—the still-hot kettle—and swung it with all my might. A howl of pain, and the intruder stumbled back, then fled. A faint, metallic smell of blood hung in the air. Shaking, I fumbled for the new phone and called 911. When the police finally arrived, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. After spending half the night at the precinct, I was dizzy and exhausted. Back in the cold dorm, I couldn’t sleep. I waited for the dawn, bracing myself. Then the knock came again. I opened it to find Aaron. He’d found me somehow, holding a wilted bouquet of wild flowers. “Jillian, I’m back. Look, I picked these on the mountain road. They have so much life—just like you.” Seeing the hopeful smile in his eyes, I finally let the tears fall again. Aaron panicked, rushing forward. “Jillian, I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll never do anything like that again. Please, don’t cry.” As he reached for my face, I took a step back. “Aaron, we’re done. And how comforting was that $1,500 I had to borrow?” The sight of the ligature marks on my neck, which the police had photographed, only momentarily silenced him before his tone hardened. “Jillian, I came all this way to apologize and surprise you, and the first thing you do is bring up money? How did you get so materialistic?” “Materialistic? I was almost choked to death in a robbery last night! Aaron, when are you going to grow up?” “I’m done. We’re finished. Don’t ever come back here.” Hearing the finality in my voice, he froze. He finally saw the bruises on my neck and his whole body started to tremble. “No, are you okay? God, I’m sorry. It’s my fault—I wasn’t here. I panicked when I got your texts. I’ll sell the bike right now, I swear! I’ll move in here with you!” I looked into his eyes. He was twenty-eight, the same age as me, yet utterly devoid of responsibility. I had no idea what had kept me with him for a decade. But now, I couldn’t buy into his chaos anymore. I pushed him aside, grabbed my work bag, and walked out. “Aaron, don’t force me. We need a clean break. Stay away from me. And yes, since you’re selling the bike, remember to give me my share of the money.” He shrieked, instantly abandoning the contrite role. “Money, money, money! You are so shallow and obsessed with money!” I didn’t slow down, just took a deep breath. “I’m not wrong. In the real world, if you don’t have the skills to make a decent living, you have to work and accept reality.” Aaron clearly wasn’t ready to accept anything. He continued his tirade until I reached the main office doors and the security guard stopped him. He finally realized I was serious. I was resolved. The withdrawal symptoms hurt, but a decade of connection wasn’t something you could excise painlessly. Aaron remained outside for a few minutes, staring, but when I didn’t look back, he turned and stomped off. I shook my head. He was always like this—he never bent. Every single fight, I had to be the one to seek reconciliation. Now that I wasn’t waiting, he couldn’t even manage a half hour of persistence. The thought was suddenly ridiculous. I turned my attention to work. Aaron did stay away, but the landlord and Brenda called me. “Jillian, are you really not coming back? Your boyfriend is still living there, but the neighbors are complaining. He’s got too many people coming and going. The lease was only for two people!” I simply replied to the landlord: “I’m out of the city. Aaron is the only tenant now. You need to draw up a new lease with him.” Brenda called, too. “Jillian, did you two really break up peacefully? That guy seemed highly unstable when he was looking for you.” I apologized and assured her it was final. She was relieved and urged me to focus on my success here. I did. One month bled into the next. When my first full paycheck hit my account, and I saw the numbers steadily climbing, a deep sense of calm settled over me. All I did was work and sleep. I bought new things, slowly arranging my sparse dorm room, making it feel, little by little, like a home. I closed the old joint account, making sure to save all the balance and transaction histories. In the third month, Aaron reappeared. He showed up beneath the office building with a massive bouquet, a swarm of drones, and huge helium balloons carrying two long, paper posters with a message of apology.