Love, like a bank account, involves deposits and withdrawals. Times when it’s given, and times when it’s taken.
She had been patient with Warren all those years. The lies, the secrecy, the cheating. He’d always executed a clever deceit to cover his tracks. And now, as always, he wanted another chance. He had nerve to think it was possible. Ever hopeful he would come around, it always was possible for him to gain a reprieve from her.
But not this time. It’s done.
Love is like a bank account. And Warren just received a message from the teller. Account overdrawn.