So, I’ve been hanging out with a colleague, Mina, for a while now. She’s not just a colleague; like me, she’s one of the partners at our interior design company. It’s one of those lavish companies that allows us to make spaces beautiful while being paid the big bucks.

Although we get along well, I didn’t expect Mina to have any ulterior motives toward me.

We’re both single, so we enjoy dining out whenever we can — despite what it seems like there’s a lot of pressure in our jobs as we deal with high-profile clients, like businessmen and hoteliers. We’ve gotten into the habit of dressing up and going out to just let off some steam. And I was also trying to figure out if we could be more than just colleagues.

Now, I’ll admit it — I come from a wealthy family of businessmen, with my father owning a chain of restaurants. So, naturally, I have more money at my disposal. Usually, if we do coffee or lunch during the day, Mina covers it because it’s always fast food. But I don’t think twice about paying when it’s fancier places.

The other day, we went to our favorite fast food place during lunch, and this mishap happened.

Mina couldn’t find her phone.

“I’ll check the bathroom. Maybe I left it in there when I went to wash my hands,” Mina said, jumping up from the booth and going to the bathroom.

I nodded and decided to call her phone to make it easier for us to find it.

After a moment, I heard Mina’s phone buzzing from the booth she had been sitting at.

Then, the waiter appeared, ready to clear up the empty burger wrappers from our table.

“Sir,” he said, reaching for the phone from the booth. “Right on time, it’s ringing.”

He handed me the phone.

All should have been well, right?

Except, when I looked at the phone, the Caller ID showed “Money Bag,” revealing my contact saved on her phone.

I didn’t want to say anything just yet. I didn’t find the need to blow up or confront her right away. Instead, I put the phone on the table and ate my fries.

“Urgh,” Mina said, walking toward our table again. “It’s not there.”

“It’s here,” I said, gesturing to the phone on the table. “It was between your purse and your laptop bag.”

Mina beamed at me. But I felt so betrayed and hurt that she could smile at me like this but think so little of me. I wasn’t enough to have my name saved on her phone, but I was enough to pay for things.

I decided to have a little fun and teach her a lesson.

So, we plan this extravagant dinner at one of those places where the menu is more like a financial statement. I’m talking lobster, caviar, the most expensive wine on the list — the whole nine yards.

All for that evening. It was Friday and I didn’t want to stay in anyway. I also wanted Mina to know that her actions had hurt me, and there was no point in dragging it on.

“Let’s just dress up and have a night out,” I said as we walked back into our office.

“I agree, and we can celebrate the big deal we made!” she exclaimed.

I went home, showered, and tried to forget how used I felt. I had a drink or two and waited for the time to pass.

We got to the restaurant and enjoyed the evening, making small talk, and the restaurant’s atmosphere was just right. There’s music and chatter and lots of delicious food. But as the night progresses, I can’t shake off the realization that I’m nothing more than her “Money Bag.”

Anyway, Mina says how glad she is that we’re there and that she’s having a great time with me. She batted her eyelids a few times.

Then, she orders more champagne and a lavish dessert.

When the waiter presents the bill — a whopping $500 — I decide that it’s time to make my move.

I pick up the bill, scan through it, and calculate what I ordered because I was only going to pay for myself. I handed the waiter my card for him to tap, and I sat back, looking at Mina.

“Ma’am, you’ll pay the rest?” the waiter asked Mina.

Mina’s eyes widened like saucers when she realized I only paid for myself.

“Um,” she stammered. “Daniel, do you think you could —”

“Sorry, the Money Bag has run out of money,” I said before letting her finish.

Mina blushed, and then she began to salvage the situation with a feeble apology, claiming that I misunderstood her intentions and that it was all just a joke.

But I just wasn’t buying any of it. So, I picked up my keys and left the restaurant, leaving Mina to figure out her mess.

After that, work became a little awkward, and I could sense her regret. She tried to bring coffee to me a few times, and once, she even brought cinnamon buns into the office because she knew I loved them.

But at the same time, I just tried to focus on my tasks without letting the situation affect my professional life. I needed to be my best because I loved my job. But the truth is, it was a wake-up call for me, too. Maybe I had been oblivious to the signs, or perhaps I just wanted to avoid seeing them.

Now, I’m sitting at my desk and deciding on paint samples for an elite office space I’m working on, and I’ve come to realize that there should be a distinct difference between colleagues and friends.

Maybe it’s just not possible to have it all.

Was I being dramatic? What would you have done?

Here’s another story for you: Peter arrives at his father’s hotel and demands the establishment’s ownership be transferred to him. His father sets a challenge: run the hotel for a day. However, a random homeless man upends Peter’s plans…