When Tyler asked me to move in, it felt like a milestone. After two years of dating, living at his place made sense.

He had a spacious apartment, while I shared a cramped space with roommates.

One night, as we watched the sunset, he said, “You live here already. Why not make it official?”

I said yes, excited about the future we were building. Moving in was chaotic but fun — my brother helped with the heavy lifting, and we bought a new sofa. I quickly settled in, making the apartment feel like home.

At first, things were great. But then, six weeks in, I found an invoice in the fridge: $1,350 for rent, utilities, and a “comfort contribution.” Tyler, calm as ever, said it was just what adults do. I was stunned.

I didn’t argue, but behind the scenes, I made a plan. A friend, Jordan, needed a place to stay, so we worked out a deal. When Tyler came home, I introduced Jordan as our new roommate, splitting the rent. Tyler was furious, but I handed him $675 for my half of the rent and left.

I moved in with Jordan, and it turned out to be the most peaceful living situation I’d had. Tyler became the joke of our friend group, and when he tried to apologize, I ignored him.

A few months later, I ran into him with someone else — someone kind and emotionally mature. Tyler nodded awkwardly and walked away. I smiled.

Love shouldn’t have fees. If it does, just sublet and leave.