We ordered drinks—water for me, wine for her.
Then came the menu. I scanned the prices: salads for $19, steaks pushing $60. I smiled and said, “I’ll just have the salad, maybe some bread too.”
We laughed and caught up on life. She told me about her big work win; I told her about saving for grad school. Still, I couldn’t shake the quiet anxiety as I did mental math between bites of lettuce.
When the check came, Mia said easily, “We’ll just split it.”
My heart dropped. Before I could speak, the waiter placed two separate checks on the table.
“Oh,” Mia said, surprised. “You didn’t have to—”
“I called earlier,” I said calmly. “Asked them to split it ahead of time. Just wanted to avoid any confusion.”
She blinked, then blushed. “You could’ve told me.”Continue reading…
