Skyla placed the keys and envelope on the table.
“I couldn’t get all of it,” she whispered. “But this should cover the first part of your treatment.”
Inside was a cashier’s check.
I stared at the amount.
Then at the keys.
“Where did this money come from?”
She looked exhausted.
“I sold my car.”
My stomach dropped.
The old car she complained about constantly was still the only way she got to college and work.
But that wasn’t all.
She had also withdrawn the money she had saved for the next semester’s tuition and spent five days arranging extra shifts, selling several things she owned, and meeting with the buyer for the car.
“I can take the bus for a while,” she said. “School can wait. You can’t.”
That was when I started crying.
Not because she had passed my test.
Because I suddenly understood how disgusting the test had been.
“There is no treatment,” I said.
Skyla stared at me.
“What?”
“I’m not sick.”
I told her everything.
My friends.
My parents.
My stupid suspicion that she might only love me for my money.
For several seconds, she said absolutely nothing.
Then she slowly sat down.
“You let me believe you were dying?”
I couldn’t even look at her.
“I’m sorry.”
She began crying too, but not with relief.
“You watched me panic for five days because you wanted proof?”
That question ended our relationship more effectively than any shouting could have.
Skyla took back the check and the car-sale paperwork. I immediately covered the financial loss so she could recover what she had sacrificed, but money couldn’t repair what I had done.
She moved out two days later.
I begged her to stay.
She refused.
“You wanted to know whether you could trust me,” she said. “You never asked whether I could trust you.”
Months later, I learned she had returned to school and finished the semester.
I also stopped listening to people who treated relationships like financial investigations.
Skyla had never failed my test.
I had failed hers without even knowing I was taking one.
And by the time I understood that, the woman who had been willing to sacrifice almost everything for me had finally decided I was no longer worth the sacrifice.
