The night started like any other date. We sat across from each other in a cozy booth, the restaurant lit with dim golden light. My date introduced himself as Deacon, charming enough, confident, and full of stories about his latest gym routines and entrepreneurial dreams. I wasn’t sure if I believed half of what he said, but he carried himself with the ease of someone who’d been on many dates before.
When the bill came, the waitress set it down gently, glanced at him, and said, “Sir, your card was declined.”
His face drained of color. He gave an awkward laugh, fumbling for his wallet. Before the moment could stretch into full-blown embarrassment, I reached for my purse, prepared to cover it. But then something strange happened.
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