My Boyfriend Broke up with Me and Sent Me a Bill for Everything He 'Spent on Me'

When Kyra discovers, by accident, that her boyfriend, Henry, has been cheating on her, she goes completely numb. Until he sends her an invoice for everything that he had ever spent on her. Fueled by her anger, Kyra fights back, exposing Henry for who he is and asking for her monetary rewards in return.

We've all heard of crazy boyfriend or ex-boyfriend stories—I mean, when I was in college, it was a common sleepover story.

I've heard of the boyfriend who wanted to taste everything his girlfriend ate—before she did. And an ex-boyfriend who demanded that his ex-girlfriend help him study for finals because it was her fault that he wasn't able to concentrate.

But I didn't expect my relationship to turn into one of those stories.

I had been dating Henry for two years. We had met in college at a party and after a night of drunken conversation over fries, we ended up dating.

Our relationship wasn't perfect—in fact, over the course of it, we had broken up three times.

"Come on, Kyra," Henry said. "We either get back together or we break up for good."

It was the defining moment in our relationship because Henry was the one who wanted to call the shots. He wanted us to stay together, and I wanted us to call it a day.

Over the years, Henry and I had gotten into enough fights, motivating me to turn to therapy to help me cope with the stress of it.

"And yet," my friend Brent said, "you still remain with him."

It was just another ordinary Friday evening and Henry had come over to my place. We were going to eat pizza and watch series until we fell asleep.

A few hours into the evening, Henry had fallen asleep on the couch and I casually reached over to grab his phone to check the time.

But I was completely unprepared for everything that followed.

Just as I picked up Henry's phone, his screen lit up with a text message from another girl.

Hey, babe! See you later or are we meeting tomorrow?

"Hey, who's this?" I asked, nudging him awake and handing him the phone with a puzzled look.

Henry snatched the phone from my hand in a fury, his face clouding over.

"Kyra, why are you reading my messages?" he snapped, his tone defensive.

"I was just looking for the time," I stammered. "My phone is on charge in the kitchen. I wasn't snooping or anything."

Henry stood up, took a swig of his now room-temperature beer, and paced around my living room.

"This is my private stuff, Kyra," he accused. "You shouldn't be looking at all."

Before I could process what was happening, Henry began putting his shoes on, and then he made a final decision about our relationship.

"I think we're done here. I can't trust you anymore!"

And with that, he left my apartment.

Stunned, I watched him leave. We were over in the blink of an eye after two years.

I couldn't understand if I felt relief or devastation. I would miss Henry, of course, but at the same time—I didn't think that this was the worst thing.

Henry had been emotionally manipulating me for a long time, but I had felt a familiarity with him. And that had made it easier to stay with him.

It was the comfort of being with a familiar person, despite the heartache that came with them.

I could hear my mother's words loud in my head.

"Kyra," she would say, "You're too smart to be playing a game like this. Let go of the dead weight. Henry has been nothing but dead weight since your first big fight."

And she would be correct.

I decided to take a shower, I needed to lull my body into a sense of relaxation so that I could just let go and sleep.

And then it truly dawned on me—the reason for the breakup now was because I had caught Henry cheating on me. At first, I was too stunned. I was stunned by the fact that he had walked out on me.

But I finally managed to realize that he had actually been dating another woman. And had no idea how long it had been going on for.

The thought was too much for me to comprehend. I had so many questions running through my mind—how long had Henry been cheating on me? Who was the other person? What would have happened if I hadn't found out?

The next few days were a complete blur—I felt a sense of relief knowing that I was untied to Henry. But at the same time, I felt hollow and a bit raw.

I found myself crying—not for Henry, but for myself. And through it all, I couldn't understand why I was so upset.

While making a cup of tea, an email pinged on my laptop, signaling me to my desk.

It was from Henry.

Hoping for an apology, I opened it immediately—only to find a detailed bill listing every single expense that Henry claimed to have incurred on my behalf over the duration of our relationship.

Kyra, please make the payment soon. I need to move on, and you need to make things right with me. I cannot believe I wasted so much time and money on you.

I saw red—a hazy fury took over my sight. My head pounded, and my heart was ready to burst with the flood of feelings that were unleashed by Henry's email.

"This is insane!" I screamed at the screen.

I shut off my laptop and made myself some soup. Henry and his delusional state of mind could wait. I wasn't going to pay anything back. I was done with him.

As I cut up some garlic bread, I had an idea.

My friend, Brent, who hated Henry—was a lawyer and he loved a challenge.

"Hey, it's me," I said, calling him while I waited for the soup to get ready. "I've got a bit of a situation with Henry, and I think I need to hit back with something clever."

Brent was intrigued. He chuckled and asked me to explain.

"Tell me everything, Kyra," he said.

The next day, I met Brent at a coffee shop, where we planned on thinking up the next step where I could get back at Henry.

Brent ordered us coffee and pastries, while I pulled up the email from Henry.

As we laid out his claims against my emotional tolls—the late-night anxiety, the therapy costs—he burst out laughing.

"This is actually genius. Let's draft up a counter-invoice."

Our response was meticulously calculated, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction sending it back to him.

This inspired me to start a blog about my journey of recovery and empowerment. To my surprise, the blog resonated with many, and soon, a publisher reached out with an interest in turning my experiences into a book.

On the other hand, Henry's pursuit for repayment dwindled, especially once he realized the potential public fallout and legal ramifications.

"I cannot believe that you did that, Kyra," Henry said. "People are messaging me constantly now. Why would you embarrass me like that? Why would you post the invoice I sent you? You owe me!"

I sat in front of the TV and let Henry vent on speaker.

I had absolutely no intention of explaining myself. My blog did expose him—and sure, I did post the invoice. But it was my way of healing through the entire ordeal.

But as always, Henry had to make it about himself. He commented on some of the blog posts, stating that I was yet to pay him for everything.

In reply, other readers let him have it—calling him out on his selfishness.

When Brent came over for dinner, he sat down and chuckled.

"Looks like Henry got the message," Brent said. "He has dropped all demands. It seems like he just didn't want to risk any further exposure."

In the end, not only did I manage to counter his pettiness with strength, but I also carved out a new path for myself.

This wasn't just about a breakup recovery—it was a rebirth.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here's another one for you |

My Fiancé Sent Me a Cute Photo with His Dog, Unknowingly Exposing His Shocking Secret

When Nina's fiancé, Mitchell, sends her a photo of his dog, Buster—she proudly shows it off to her colleague, Sophie. But instead of telling her how cute Buster is, Sophie reveals a much deeper secret that changes Nina's entire life, causing her engagement to fall apart before her eyes.

I was having an ordinary lunch break—just like any other. I sat at my desk, sipped on my cup of coffee, and nibbled on a croissant. Just as I was about to pick up my work phone and call my mother to catch up, my phone pinged with a message notification.

Mitchell, my fiancé, had sent over an adorable photo of his dog, Buster. Buster was a large part of Mitchell's life, and he went everywhere with Buster, often coming over to my apartment for sleepovers when Mitch intended on doing just that.

"Look here, Sophie," I said to my colleague who shared the desk with me.

"Buster is adorable," she said, eating her salad. "But I'm glad you finally figured the whole thing out."

"Figured what out?" I asked, confused.

"Nina, come on," she said. "I thought that you were showing me something else—"

"What?" I interrupted her.

Sophie put her fork down and put her head on her desk. She sighed before taking a moment to choose her words. She seemed conflicted, and it sent shots of anxiety through my body.

What did she know? All I did was show her a photo of Buster.

"Look at the background," she said. "Where is that?"

I was confused. I hadn't noticed anything other than Buster's little face. So, now that I was forced to look at the photo with a pair of detective's eyes, I realized that Mitchell wasn't at home.

"I thought that Mitch was home, and that it was his den," I admitted to Sophie, who was hanging off her seat.

"And is it?" she asked.

"No."

And it wasn't. The room seemed much more feminine than my fiancé's house.

"Exactly," she said. "Look, Nina. I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but I know that place. It's Carla's apartment."

Carla?

Carla was a co-worker of Mitchell's—someone he mentioned occasionally but always in passing, never anything that made me suspicious.

Until right now.

The realization that he might be cheating was overwhelming.

"Are you sure?" I asked Sophie, who had moved on to eating almonds from a jar.

She nodded slowly.

"You know that I live in the same building, right? I've seen Mitchell there more than once, Nina. I thought you knew and that you were okay with it. I mean, they do work together, so it's not that foreign for him to spend time there."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

I was dumbstruck. I couldn't understand why Sophie hadn't mentioned it to me at all. Sure, we were friends—maybe not best friends, but we did do things together pretty often.

From going to the movies to grabbing quick lunches to even Sophie staying with me for over a week while her plumbing was being redone. She had been at my engagement party. That was when she realized that she knew Carla anyway.

After all of that, I didn't understand why Sophie wouldn't just come out and tell me that my fiancé was constantly at another woman's home.

"I'm sorry, Nina," she said. "I just thought that he would tell you first, and that he would at least have the decency to be honest about it. Also, it wasn't my secret to tell."

I was determined to find out the truth. I left work early, claiming I had a dentist appointment later that evening, and drove straight to Carla's apartment building.

My mind raced because I had no idea what I was walking into. I wanted Sophie to be wrong. So wrong that she would have to apologize to me when we discovered the truth.

What to know what happens next? Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.