Then the favors began. It started innocently enough: “Can you fix my Wi-Fi?” or “My car won’t start.” Soon, it turned into rides to the airport, help with her lease, and endless small rescues. And every single time, he said yes.

I told him it made me uncomfortable. He brushed it off, saying, “She doesn’t have anyone else.” I tried to be understanding—until the night she called during our anniversary dinner about a leaking sink.

And he left. I sat there alone, staring at his half-eaten steak, realizing our marriage had started to feel like a waiting room. That night, something in me shifted.

A few days later, my ex texted me about a charity event. I agreed to help and mentioned it casually over dinner. His jaw tightened immediately.

Then I added that I planned to meet my ex for coffee. “You’re not seriously going?” he asked. “Why not?” I replied. “He just needs a friend.”

That was the first time I saw understanding flicker in his eyes. He went quiet that night—thoughtful, maybe even embarrassed.

The next morning, he showed me a message he had sent Sarah: “I can’t keep fixing everything for you.” He didn’t love how I’d made my point, but he finally understood it. Sometimes, the only way to teach boundaries is to let someone feel what it’s like to live without them.