When I married my husband, I knew about his ex-wife, Sarah. There were no kids, no shared house—just a bit of history between them. I was fine with it… at least, at first.

But then the favors began. It started innocently enough: “Can you fix my Wi-Fi?” or “My car won’t start.” Soon, it turned into rides to the airport, helping with apartment lease checks, and endless small rescues. And every single time, he said yes.

I told him it made me uncomfortable. He brushed it off, saying, “She doesn’t have anyone else.” I tried to let it go—until the night she called during our anniversary dinner about a leaking sink. And he left.

I sat there alone, staring at his half-eaten steak, wondering when our marriage had started to feel like a waiting room. Later, when my ex texted about a charity event, I agreed to help. I mentioned it casually over dinner.

His jaw tightened immediately. A few days after that, I said I planned to meet my ex for coffee. “You’re not seriously going?” he asked.

“Why not?” I replied calmly. “He just needs a friend.”

That was the first time I saw understanding flicker in his eyes. He went quiet that night—thoughtful, almost shaken.

The next morning, he showed me the message he had sent Sarah: “I can’t keep fixing everything for you.”

He didn’t love the way I’d made my point, but he understood it. Sometimes, the only way to teach boundaries is to let someone feel what it’s like to live without them.