My boyfriend stole my money to take another woman on vacation. When I confronted him, he rolled his eyes and said,
“Relax, you’ll get over it.”
His friends mocked me. She called me pathetic. But few days later, he was screaming on my voicemail and begging me.

Felix and I have been together for just over 3 years. We don’t live together officially, but he stays at my place most night since his apartment is a 40-minute drive from his job and mine is only 15 minutes away. We’ve talked about moving in together for real next year when my lease is up—at least that was the plan. We’re both pretty average financially. We split most expenses when we go out, take turns paying for groceries, and generally have what I thought was a fair financial arrangement.

I’ve been saving up for the past year and a half for a security deposit and first month’s rent on a better place when we move in together. It wasn’t a ton of money, about $2,800, but it represented a lot of small sacrifices: packing lunches instead of buying them, skipping Starbucks, taking on a few extra weekend shifts when they were available.

Last Friday, I went to transfer some money from my savings to my checking account to cover my car insurance payment. I opened my banking app and nearly dropped my phone. My savings account balance was $267, not the 2,800 plus it should have been. I immediately thought there was some kind of mistake, or that my account had been hacked. I called the bank in a panic, and after going through security questions, the representative pulled up my recent transaction. There had been a withdrawal of $2,550 three days earlier. I hadn’t made that withdrawal.

The rep asked if anyone else had access to my account, and that’s when my stomach dropped. Felix knows my phone password. I’ve never hidden it from him. We’ve always had an open phone policy. He’s seen me enter my banking app password before. I never thought he would. I thanked the bank rep and hung up, then checked the security features on the app. The withdrawal had been made in person at a branch across town using my ID—except I hadn’t been to that branch in months. Felix must have taken my driver’s license from my wallet while I was in the shower or sleeping.

I tried calling Felix, but it went straight to voicemail. I texted him asking where he was and if we could talk. He replied a few hours later saying he was out with the guys and would be back tomorrow. Something felt off about the whole thing. I spent the night tossing and turning, trying to come up with any explanation other than the obvious. Maybe there was an emergency he hadn’t told me about. Maybe he was planning some elaborate surprise. Deep down, I knew I was grasping at straws.

The next morning, I checked his Instagram—something I rarely do since he barely posts. There was nothing new on his profile, but when I checked his friend Andy’s stories, my world collapsed. There was Felix on a beach with his arm around a girl I’d never seen before. The caption read day two of vacation vibes with these love birds. Love birds. Plural. I scrolled through more of Andy’s stories and saw more pictures of Felix and this girl, Jasmine. According to the tags, they were at a resort in Cancun, a resort that would have cost about $2,500 for two people.

I felt physically sick. Three years together, and he stole my money to take another woman on vacation.

I sat on my bathroom floor for what felt like hours, alternating between crying and feeling completely numb.

When Felix finally came home Sunday night, I was waiting. He walked in like nothing was wrong—tanned and smiling—dropping his duffel bag by the door. He greeted me casually and tried to kiss me, but I stepped back and confronted him about where he’d really been. At first he tried to stick with his story about hanging out with the guys, but when I showed him Andy’s Instagram stories, his demeanor changed completely. Not to embarrassment or shame. Just annoyance, like I’d caught him in a minor lie about eating the last cookie, not betraying our entire relationship.

He didn’t even deny taking the money. He claimed it was a last minute thing and that Jasmine had won tickets but needed someone to go with her. He said he was going to pay me back eventually, as if that made it okay. When I pointed out that he could barely cover his half of groceries most weeks, he got defensive.

The part that really floored me was when he tried to downplay the theft by saying it wasn’t like he’d taken my rent money. It was just sitting there. I reminded him that it was our future apartment money, that I’d been saving for over a year, and he had the audacity to laugh and say we weren’t going to find anything decent for just $2,800 anyway.

When I asked if Jasmine was his girlfriend, he hesitated just long enough for me to know the truth before denying it. He claimed she was just a friend, but we all know friends don’t go on romantic beach vacations together.

Throughout the whole confrontation, he was so dismissive—grabbing a beer from the fridge, telling me he didn’t want to fight about it, acting like I was making a big deal out of nothing. When I called him out for stealing and cheating, he looked me dead in the eyes and said,
“Relax, you’ll get over it.”

That’s when I knew this wasn’t a mistake or a one-time lapse in judgment. This was who he was: someone who could steal from me, cheat on me, and then tell me to get over it like I was being unreasonable.

I told him to get out of my apartment. He tried to argue, saying his place was far away and he had work in the morning. I told him that was his problem, and he should have thought about that before stealing my money and cheating on me. As he was leaving, he had the nerve to mutter that I was being impossible and making a big deal out of nothing. His parting shot was telling me to keep the drama because Jasmine wouldn’t act like this.

After he left, I collapsed on the couch shaking. I’ve spent the last 2 days in a fog trying to process everything. I blocked him after receiving several texts accusing me of overreacting and needing to calm down so we can talk like adults. I called out sick from work yesterday and today. I’ve barely eaten. I keep checking my bank account, hoping somehow the money will reappear even though I know it won’t.

I don’t know what to do now. Part of me wants to report the theft to the police, but we’ve been together for 3 years. Despite everything, the thought of him getting arrested makes me feel sick. But then I remember the look on his face when he told me to get over it, and I feel a different kind of sick.

I called the bank again this morning, but since he had access to my ID and knew my passwords, they said it would be considered unauthorized use rather than fraud, and my best option would be to pursue it as a civil matter. I’m changing all my passwords, getting a new bank account, and planning to get my locks changed tomorrow. I don’t think he’d try to come back, but I don’t know who he is anymore, so I can’t be sure. I don’t even know what I’m asking for here. I just needed to get this out somewhere because I feel like I’m drowning.

First update: first I want to thank everyone who commented on my last post. I honestly didn’t expect so many people to respond, and reading your comments made me feel less crazy and alone. Several people asked for an update and, well, it’s been a week since I kicked Felix out of my apartment after discovering he stole my savings to take Jasmine to Cancun.

The first couple of days were a blur of crying, barely eating, and obsessively checking my phone. Even though I’d blocked him, I kept thinking maybe he’d find some way to contact me and tell me this was all a huge misunderstanding. I went back to work on Wednesday because I couldn’t afford to miss any more days. My coworker noticed something was off and asked if I was okay during lunch. I gave her the condensed version and she was appropriately horrified. It felt validating to see someone else’s shocked reaction.

That night, I got a text from an unknown number. It was Felix texting from his friend Maurice’s phone, just a simple,
“We need to talk.”
I didn’t respond. An hour later, another text,
“You’re being childish. It’s just money. I said I’ll pay you back.”
I blocked Maurice’s number too.

Thursday was uneventful, but Friday is when things really went downhill. My friend Carla invited me out for drinks, insisting I needed to get out of my apartment. I was reluctant but agreed because she was right. I’d been alternating between work and hiding under my blankets watching TikTok.

We went to this bar downtown that has trivia on Fridays. I was actually starting to feel almost normal for the first time all week, laughing at Carla’s terrible guesses during the music round. Then I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, I froze. Felix was there with Andy, Maurice, and three other guys from his friend group. They were at a table across the room and hadn’t seen me yet. I immediately told Carla we needed to leave, but as I was gathering my jacket, Andy spotted me and headed over.

Andy approached with this smug smirk, making loud comments about how I was crying over my piggy bank and that Felix had been moping all week because of my overreaction. According to him, it wasn’t like Felix spent my money on drugs, it was just a vacation with a hot girl, and any guy would have done the same.

I tried to stand my ground, reminding him that Felix had stolen from me, but Andy just rolled his eyes dramatically. By this point, Felix had noticed the commotion and was heading over with Maurice and the others, effectively blocking our path to the door.

Felix acted so casual, like we were bumping into each other at the grocery store. He kept insisting I needed to unblock him so we could sort this out. When I firmly stated there was nothing to sort out—he stole my money and cheated on me—Maurice and the other guy started snickering.

Felix’s defense was pathetic. He admitted taking the money without asking was wrong, but claimed it wasn’t stealing because we’re together and what’s yours is mine. He insisted Jasmine was just a friend and that it wasn’t a romantic vacation because Andy and Maurice were there too. It was a group thing. When I pointed out that Andy’s Instagram literally called them love birds, Andy mumbled something about it being just a joke.

That’s when I heard a female voice behind me, and my humiliation reached a whole new level. It was Jasmine asking if I was the one having a meltdown over a few dollars. When I tried to explain he stole my savings, she looked me up and down with this pitying expression and called me pathetic for being this worked up over $2,000. I corrected her that it was actually $2,550 and had taken me over a year to save. Her response? She threw her head back and laughed, saying that was even sadder.

I looked at Felix, waiting for him to defend me or tell her to back off. Instead, he was staring at the floor with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. That’s when it hit me: he told them all about this. They’d been laughing about it. About me. The girl who was stupid enough to get her money stolen, who was pathetic enough to be upset about it.

Carla, bless her, announced we were leaving and pushed past Maurice. As we walked away, I heard more laughter behind us, and Jasmine made sure I heard her telling Felix he dodged a bullet by not being with someone that financially unstable.

I made it outside before the tears started. Carla hugged me while I tried to pull myself together, then ordered an Uber to take us back to my place. In the car, she told me Felix and his friends were always jerks and she never understood what I saw in him. Back at my apartment, Carla stayed over. We ordered pizza, opened a bottle of wine, and she let me vent. I showed her the texts Felix had sent from Maurice’s phone, and she helped me block a few more numbers I hadn’t thought of.

The next morning, I woke up to an Instagram DM from Jasmine. I almost didn’t open it, but curiosity got the better of me. The message confirmed my worst fears: she and Felix had been seeing each other for months. He’d been telling her that we were basically broken up and just roommates. She claimed finding out he stole my money was gross, but wanted me to know the whole truth, that this didn’t start with Cancun. I took a screenshot and then blocked her too.

Months. Months. All those late nights working, the weekends he was helping his buddy move, the mysterious phone calls he’d take outside—it all made sense now. I showed Carla the message when she woke up. She wasn’t surprised, pointing out that men like Felix don’t suddenly decide to steal and cheat, they work up to it.

We spent Saturday making a plan. First, I called my landlord and explained the situation, asking if I could change the locks since Felix wasn’t on the lease. They agreed to send someone Monday morning. Then I went to my bank and opened a completely new account at a different bank, transferring what little money I had left. I changed all my passwords, set up two-factor authentication on everything.

Carla helped me go through my apartment, gathering anything Felix had left behind into a box. It wasn’t much: some clothes, a toothbrush, a few video games, nothing worth fighting over.

Sunday morning, I woke up feeling different. Not better exactly, but clearer. The humiliation from Friday night still stung, but underneath it was something else: anger. Not the hot, reactive kind from when I first found out, but something colder and more focused. They thought I was pathetic. Fine. Let them think that. But I wasn’t going to just curl up and disappear.

I spent Sunday cleaning my apartment top to bottom, throwing out things that reminded me of Felix, rearranging furniture. It sounds silly, but it felt like reclaiming my space. I also made a budget plan to rebuild my savings. It would take time, but I’d done it before.

This morning, the locksmith came and changed my locks. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders knowing Felix couldn’t just walk in anymore. I went to work, and when I checked my phone during lunch, I had three missed calls from Felix. Not from another number, but his actual number. I must have missed one when I was blocking people. I listened to the voicemail he left. His tone had changed completely from Friday night. He sounded worried, almost panicked, saying we needed to talk because Jasmine was saying some crazy stuff that wasn’t true, or at least not all of it. He ended with,
“I miss you.”
I deleted it without calling back.

When I got home from work, there was a small envelope that had been slipped under my door. Inside was $300 in cash and a note,
“starting to pay you back. can we please talk. F”

$300 out of $2,550, and he thought that would fix things.

I’m not sure what his game is now. Maybe Jasmine dumped him after finding out he’s a thief. Maybe his friends got bored of the drama and he has no one to hang out with. Maybe he realized living 40 minutes from work actually sucks. Whatever it is, I’m not playing. The Felix I thought I knew never existed. The real Felix stole my money, cheated on me for months, let his friends mock me, and stood by while his other girlfriend called me pathetic.

Carla’s coming over again tonight to help me draft a text making it crystal clear that we are done and he needs to stop contacting me. She also suggested I document everything in case I need to get a restraining order, which feels extreme, but after the last week, I wouldn’t put anything past him. I’ll update again if anything significant happens.

Second update: thank you all for the overwhelming support on my previous posts. Reading your comments has been both comforting and eye-opening. Many of you asked for another update, so here it is. It’s been almost 2 weeks since the bar incident where Felix, Jasmine, and their friends humiliated me.

Since then, Felix has escalated his attempts to contact me. The $300 he slipped under my door was just the beginning. He’s shown up at my workplace twice. I had to tell my supervisor about the situation, which was mortifying. He sent flowers with apology notes and even had his mother call me. I didn’t answer.

Last Thursday morning, I woke up to find my car had a flat tire. At first I thought it was just bad luck until I noticed a small puncture that looked deliberate. I can’t prove Felix did it, but the timing feels suspicious. I was already running late, so I had to call an Uber to get to work and deal with the tire later, just another expense I didn’t need. That was the final straw.

After work, I went straight to Carla’s place instead of going home. I was afraid Felix might be waiting at my apartment, and I needed space to think. Carla made us dinner, and we sat down to figure out a real strategy, not just blocking him and hoping he’d go away, but a comprehensive plan to extract him from my life permanently.
“You need to think of this like a chess game,”
Carla said.
“He’s made his moves. Now it’s your turn.”

I’ve never been good at chess, but I understood what she meant. Up until now, I’d been reacting to Felix—changing my locks after he tried to come over, blocking numbers after he contacted me. I needed to be proactive instead of reactive.

We made a list of everything I needed to do: move out completely while Felix is at work, financial disentanglement, document everything, contact his family, reach out to mutual friends, prepare for potential escalation.

The next morning, I called in sick to work. I felt bad about it, but I needed a day to put my plan in motion. First, I called my landlord and explained the situation in more detail. To my surprise, she was incredibly understanding. She agreed to let me out of my lease with just 30 days notice instead of the usual 60.

Next, I went to my bank and spoke with a manager about my accounts. I’d already opened a new account at a different bank, but I wanted to make sure there were no lingering connections. I also checked my credit report to make sure Felix hadn’t opened anything in my name. Thankfully, he hadn’t gone that far.

I spent the afternoon making a detailed inventory of everything in my apartment, taking photos of my possessions. I separated things into categories: stuff that was definitely mine from before Felix, things we bought together, and items that were clearly his. For the joint purchases, I made notes about who paid for what.

That evening, I started packing up my essential items: important documents, sentimental belongings, and enough clothes for a week. Carla helped me move these to her place for temporary storage.

The next big step was contacting Felix’s family. This was the part I dreaded most. Felix is close with his parents, especially his mom, who had always been kind to me. I drafted and redrafted a message to her, trying to find the right balance between informative and accusatory. In the end, I kept it simple and factual. I explained that Felix had taken money from my account without permission, used it to go on vacation with another woman, and that when confronted he had been dismissive and cruel. I included screenshots of my bank statement showing the withdrawal, Andy’s Instagram posts from Cancun, and Jasmine’s message confirming they’d been seeing each other for months.

Her response came the next morning,
“Lena, I’m shocked and disappointed to hear this. I’ve raised Felix better than this. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I’ll be speaking with him.”

I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. She believed me. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that validation until I got it.

The next part of the plan was trickier: reaching out to mutual friends. Felix and I share several friend groups, and I knew I needed to get ahead of whatever narrative he might be spinning.

I decided to start with our most mutual friend, August. He’s known Felix longer than me, but he’s always been fair-minded. I asked if we could meet for coffee, and he agreed. At the cafe, I gave him the condensed version of events, showing him the same evidence I’d sent to Felix’s mom. His reaction surprised me.
“I knew something was off,”
he said.
“Felix has been acting weird for months, making excuses not to hang out with the old group, and last week he was asking if anyone could loan him money for rent.”

That was news to me. Rent? He’s never had trouble making rent before. August said Felix mentioned unexpected expenses. I guess a trip to Cancun would qualify.

Before we left, August promised to set the record straight with our other friends. Not everyone will believe it, he warned. Andy and Maurice are too far up Felix’s ass to see reality, but most people will understand.

Over the next few days, I continued executing my plan. I found a small studio apartment across town that I could afford on my own. The landlord agreed to a six-month lease, and I could move in the following week. I also contacted my phone provider and changed my number. I sent the new number only to people I trusted completely: Carla, my family, a few close friends, and my supervisor at work.

The hardest part was going back to my apartment to pack everything else. I chose a Tuesday when I knew Felix would be working a double shift at the warehouse. Carla and August came to help, along with August’s pickup truck. We were almost finished when my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number,
“heads up Felix just left work early said he wasn’t feeling well”

It was from Danny, a guy who works with Felix. We met at a company picnic last summer. I hadn’t even thought to warn him about the situation, but apparently August had reached out to him.

My heart started racing. We still had at least another hour of packing to do, and Felix could be here any minute. We worked in tense silence, throwing things into boxes without much organization. We had just loaded the last box when Felix’s car pulled into the parking lot.

August quickly got into his truck, and Carla and I jumped into my car. As we pulled out of the parking space, Felix spotted us. The look on his face as he realized what was happening—confusion, then shock, then anger—is something I’ll never forget.

The rest of the day was a blur of moving boxes, assembling furniture, and jumping every time my phone buzzed. Felix had somehow gotten my new number and was sending a stream of texts ranging from apologetic to angry to pleading. I didn’t respond to any of them. Instead, I took screenshots and added them to my growing folder of documentation.

That night, sleeping in my new place, I felt strangely calm. The apartment was bare bones: just a mattress on the floor, boxes everywhere, and the fridge empty except for a pizza box and some beer August had brought over. No memories of Felix. No wondering if he’d show up unannounced.

The next morning, I woke up to a voicemail from Felix’s mom. She sounded tired and sad,
“Lena, I spoke with Felix. He admitted everything. I… I don’t know what to say except I’m so sorry. He wasn’t raised this way. If you need anything, please let me know.”

It’s been 3 days since the move. Felix’s attempts to contact me have become less frequent but more desperate. Yesterday, he emailed me saying Jasmine had broken things off with him after finding out the whole story and that he realized what a mistake he’d made. I didn’t respond.

I’m still staying with Carla most nights, only going to my new place to grab clothes or other necessities. I’m not fully settled in yet, partly because I’m still organizing everything, but mostly because I’m afraid Felix might somehow find out where I live. The whole situation is exhausting and scary and sad.

Last update: hey everyone, it’s been about 3 weeks since my last update, and a lot has happened. First, thank you all for your advice and support. Reading your comments has helped me stay strong when I’ve been tempted to respond to Felix.

Several people suggested getting a security camera for my new apartment. I took that advice and ordered an inexpensive doorbell camera from Amazon.

After I moved out and contacted Felix’s family and friends, there was radio silence from him for about 4 days. At first I was relieved, thinking maybe he’d finally gotten the message and was moving on. I should have known better.

The silence broke last Monday morning. I was getting ready for work when my phone buzzed with a text from yet another unknown number,
“I know you’re reading these. You can’t just throw away 3 years. We need to talk.”

I blocked the number without responding. By lunchtime, he’d found another way to contact me, this time through a fake Instagram account. The message was longer but essentially the same: I was overreacting, he made a mistake, we could work through this. What struck me was how there was still no real acknowledgement of what he’d done. No “I’m sorry I stole from you,” or “I’m sorry I cheated on you for months.” Just “I made a mistake,” like he’d forgotten to take out the trash.

That evening, August texted asking if I wanted to grab dinner. He’d been checking in regularly since helping me move. Over pad thai, August filled me in on what he’d been hearing through the grapevine. Apparently, Felix’s life was starting to unravel. Jasmine had broken things off completely after learning the full story from multiple sources. She’d been under the impression that Felix and I were basically roommates who occasionally hooked up, not a committed couple of 3 years. Felix’s parents had cut him off financially. I hadn’t known they were helping him with bills, but apparently they’d been covering his car insurance and phone plan. Andy and Maurice were still hanging out with Felix, but most of our other friends had distanced themselves. Most significantly, Felix was struggling with rent. His apartment was always more expensive than mine, and without my place as a crash pad closer to work, he was spending more on gas. Plus, he’d blown through his savings on the Cancun trip.

The next morning, I woke up to an email from Felix’s mom. She wanted to meet for coffee to return some of my things that had been at their house. When I arrived, she was already there, looking tired with dark circles under her eyes. She apologized for Felix’s behavior and mentioned he had moved back home temporarily because he couldn’t afford his rent. He wasn’t handling it well—angry at everyone and not understanding that these were the natural consequences of his actions. Before we parted, she hugged me and told me I deserved better from him.

I cried in my car afterward, not for Felix, but for the relationship I’d thought we had, for the future we’d planned, for the person I’d believed he was.

The next few days were relatively quiet. I settled into a routine at my new place and started rebuilding my savings. For brief stretches, I would forget about the whole Felix situation.

Then Friday happened.

I was at the grocery store when I spotted Maurice watching me from the end of an aisle. My stomach dropped. If Maurice was here, was Felix nearby too? I headed for the exit and nearly collided with Andy in the parking lot. Surprisingly, Andy apologized for his behavior at the bar that night. He admitted Felix had told them we were on the rocks and that the money was partly his anyway. When I asked what prompted this change of heart, Andy revealed that Felix had been behaving strangely: angry all the time, borrowing money without repaying it, even getting drunk and punching a hole in Maurice’s bathroom wall. Most concerning was that Felix kept talking about me like I was coming back any day now.

When I got home, there was a package leaning against my door with my name in Felix’s handwriting. Inside was $500 in cash and a rambling letter, jumping between apologies, explanations, and please for another chance. He mentioned selling his gaming console to start paying me back and that he’d been to two therapy sessions.

Later that night, my phone rang with an unknown number. Against my better judgment, I answered. It was Felix, slurring his words. He asked if I’d received his package and mentioned taking a side gig with DoorDash to pay me back. When I confirmed I had, his tone turned desperate. He rambled about everything falling apart: his parents treating him like a teenager, Jasmine refusing to speak to him, friends thinking he was an—he insisted people make mistakes and that I couldn’t throw away 3 years over one mistake. I pointed out it wasn’t one mistake but a series of deliberate choices. He began crying, begging for another chance. I simply said goodbye and hung up, blocking the number.

Within minutes, my phone was buzzing with voicemails from other numbers. The first few were tearful please, but the later ones were angry, almost frightening. The final voicemail, left at 2:37 a.m., was just Felix screaming incoherently with phrases like,
“ruined my life,”
and,
“never loved me,”
before devolving into unintelligible yelling.

I saved all the voicemails and sent them to Carla and August.

The next morning, I received a text from Felix’s mom apologizing for his behavior. She said they’d taken his car keys and were looking into more intensive help for him.

It’s been 2 days since the voicemails. Felix hasn’t tried to contact me again, but I’m still on edge. I’ve been staying with Carla again just to be safe. I don’t know what happens next. Either way, I’m not going back. Not after everything that’s happened. Not after hearing that voicemail.