“This is my freedom. My breath. My last chance not to fall apart,” everything inside me was screaming, yet I remained silent.

I looked at Zoltán and suddenly realized he was no longer the man I had once fallen in love with. Not the one who used to bring me coffee in bed and leave little notes on the fridge. In front of me stood a tired, irritable stranger for whom my dreams had become nothing more than unnecessary numbers in a spreadsheet.

— Do you even understand what you’re asking from me? — I whispered. — You want to take away my last hope.

— Stop exaggerating, — he replied coldly. — I’ll get the money back later.

— And if you don’t? — I asked quietly.

He fell silent.

And in that silence, there was more truth than in all his promises combined.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

Zoltán fell asleep within minutes. I stared at the ceiling, counting cracks — there were more of them than happy memories.

I remembered how we met. The rain, his wet bouquet, his smile. The way he promised he would never leave me alone.

When did we stop being a team?

When did I become just a convenient wallet?

In the morning, I got up early. Made some coffee. Opened my laptop. Logged into my private account.

Three hundred thousand.

Every single dollar was earned through sleepless nights, extra work, and silent tears.

It was my life turned into numbers.

And he wanted to take it away.

— Have you decided? — he asked over breakfast.

— Yes.

— Then give me the money.

— No.

He froze.

— What?

— I said no.

— You’re selfish!

— No. I just refuse to be your personal bank.

My words exploded between us.

— After everything I’ve done for you…

— And what exactly? — I interrupted. — When was the last time you asked how I was doing?

He didn’t answer.

Because he had nothing to say.

That day, he left.

No goodbye.

No message.

Three days later, the bank called me.

He had tried to withdraw my savings without my permission.

My heart dropped.

He had betrayed me.

That evening, he came back.

— Did you report me to the bank?! — he shouted.

— I protected myself, — I replied calmly.

We looked at each other like strangers.

— I’m leaving, — I said.

— Where?

— To my own life.

A month later, I was sitting on a plane.

I didn’t have a luxury hotel. No bungalow over the water.

But I had freedom.

I woke up to the sound of waves. Wrote my thoughts. Smiled for no reason.

I felt alive again.

He kept texting me.

Begging.

Blaming.

I stayed silent.

Because, for the first time, I chose myself.

Sometimes love doesn’t die because of betrayal.

It dies because of constant “wait,” “later,” “not now.”

And one day, you realize there’s nothing left of you.

This story isn’t about a vacation.

It’s about a woman who finally stopped disappearing.