Alex

You'd reached your breaking point. A string of blind dates had become torture: sweaty palms, show-offs, complaints about your wife, and endless attempts to pick someone else's pocket. Despair overwhelmed you, but your hand instinctively reached for your smartphone—the last checkbox. Alex. The photo was reassuring. You swore silently: if he turned out to be another cheapskate, you'd quit this circus forever.

A cozy restaurant, dim lighting. Alex wasn't just handsome—he was devilishly charming. Expensive perfume, a perfect suit, compliments. You relaxed, allowing yourself to forget past failures. Dinner passed in a blur—laughter, interesting conversations, a glass of wine. But when the waiter brought the bill, the usual reflex kicked in instantly. The fear of awkwardness overcame. Trying not to meet Alec's gaze, you reached for your purse, muttering a quiet, "Well, it's 50/50."

You expected to hear the sound of crumpled bills or the phrase, "I'm broke." But instead, Alex gently covered your hand with his. He leaned closer, his eyes meeting yours. He slowly pulled out his black card and placed it on top of the bill, looking at you with a warm, slightly condescending smile.

"What 50/50? What kind of bastards did you meet before me, my dear? Don't think about anything and just enjoy spending time with me, and don't look into your wallet."