When We Moved In Together, I Already Had My Own Flat and Car, But What My Fiancé Did Next Is Beyond Belief

I was twenty-eight when I met Daniel. Like me, he came from a small village nestled in the English countryside. After finishing school, my friend Charlotte and I moved to the city and found a room to rent together, hoping for a new start. Eventually, fortune smiled on meI managed to get a mortgage and bought a modest two-bedroom flat on the outskirts of Manchester. Everything seemed to be falling into place at last. Around that time, my brother gifted me his old car after buying a new onea godsend, really, since my flat was miles from my office. That car also let me visit Mum and Dad back in the village, since they hadnt left home.
When I first met Daniel, all he had was a share in his mothers house. He was already divorced and paid maintenance for his child from his first marriage.
Living in the village, we rarely saw each other. After a few months of dating, Daniel moved in with me. Soon, he found a decent job, but needed my car to get therethe company was based on the far side of town. I didnt mind, though it meant I had to start commuting by bus and tram, crammed alongside strangers.
Daniels new job brought in good money, but none of it found its way to me. He always had a reason: his mother needed medicine, his son required something urgent, or something back at his parents needed fixing. There was always some excuse. The only thing he ever bought for our household was food, nothing more.
Meanwhile, I paid the utility bills, covered the mortgage, and handled all the day-to-day expenses of our life together. Daniel moving in hadnt improved my situation at all. In fact, the only thing that changed was Id lost access to my car.
One day, Daniel told me I needed to give him money to fix the car. He reminded me pointedly that the car was mine and that we werent married. That month, the only thing he agreed to contribute towards was the gas bill. Having recently spent all my savings on a new kitchen set, I suggested we take out a loan together.
Daniel refused. He said it was my flat and that he wouldnt invest in something that didnt belong to him.
He was right, of course. We werent marriednothing was shared between us. But the longer we lived together, the more I realised I didnt want to marry him at all. We finally broke up when he asked me for money to give to his parents for their house repairs, of all things, just as we were setting off to visit mine.
At lunch, my mum asked when wed be getting married. Calmly, I told her, Never. Daniel sat there, stunned into silence. I asked him for my car and flat keys on the spot. Then I told him to return the next day at noon to collect his things, and reminded him that since we werent married, he had no right to come and go as he pleased. That night, he went back alone, taking a taxi from my parents house.