Lana had been in a relationship with Ashton for a few months when he suggested they move in together. As recent college graduates, Ashton argued it was practical: they could split expenses evenly and build their new lives side by side.
“Sharing a place and dividing costs 50/50 just makes sense,” Ashton insisted. Lana was hesitant. Eight months of dating felt too soon for such a big step.
“I’m not sure, Ashton. It’s a lot, and we’re still figuring things out after school,” she replied cautiously.
But Ashton reassured her. “I’ve got enough saved for the deposit, and I’ll handle the apartment search. It’s the only way we can live in the city and job hunt together.”
Eventually, Lana agreed. “Alright. City rent is no joke—splitting it would help.”
Soon, Ashton secured a place, and Lana moved in. The rent seemed affordable, and Ashton suggested she send her half to him directly so he could pay the landlord. As for utilities, he asked her to handle the Wi-Fi.
For years, that arrangement seemed to work fine.
But after some time, Lana brought up taking their relationship to the next level. “We’ve lived together for years… do you see us getting married?” she asked.
“I do,” Ashton said. “I just wasn’t sure you were ready.”
“I’m not into big weddings,” she replied. “But maybe it’s time to stop renting and think about buying a house. I’d rather invest in a mortgage.”
Ashton seemed unsure. “I don’t know if we’ve saved enough for a down payment.”
Lana shared that she had savings and just wanted to plan for the future—but whenever she brought it up again, Ashton avoided the conversation.
Then one Saturday, while Ashton was picking up their usual Italian takeout, Lana was tidying their room and came across a pile of documents in the closet. She began organizing them, something she’d never done before, when one paper caught her attention.
It had their address — but instead of a lease, it was a property deed, with Ashton listed as the owner.
Shock and confusion hit her hard. He owns this place? He’s owned it all along? Then what did he do with the “rent” I was paying him?
As Ashton walked in with dinner, she confronted him immediately.
“What’s this, Ashton? You own the apartment?”
Instead of answering directly, he got defensive. “Why are you going through my stuff?”
“Don’t dodge the question! You lied. You said we were renting, but you own this place.”
Ashton finally admitted it. “Yes, I own it. My parents gave me money for the down payment after college. But I couldn’t afford the mortgage alone. I used your share to help cover it.”
Lana was livid. “So I was just paying your mortgage the whole time? That’s not splitting rent.”
“I didn’t think you’d agree to live here if you knew,” Ashton said weakly. “I’m sorry.”
“You lied to me for years! I could’ve saved thousands! What did you even do with your money?”
“I saved it…”
“For yourself?! That’s selfish. I’m done. I’m moving out—and I might take legal action,” Lana said through tears.
Despite Ashton begging her to stay and offering to repay her, Lana packed up and left. She moved into a small apartment on her own and ignored his repeated calls.
Eventually, the calls stopped. Then, one day, her bank notified her of a large deposit—Ashton had returned the amount she would’ve saved if they’d actually split costs fairly.
It was a kind gesture… but far too late. Lana had already moved on.
Lessons from this story:
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Deception ruins trust. Lying about finances or major life decisions can severely damage a relationship—even if you think it’s “not a big deal.”
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Transparency matters. Don’t agree to long-term arrangements without seeing documents. Even if you trust your partner, always know what you’re signing up for.