For a moment, the air between us felt fragile.

But instead of turning it into a confrontation, I chose something else.

“It’s okay,” I said lightly. “Next time, we’ll go somewhere that matches both our budgets. Tacos, maybe?”

She laughed, tension dissolving. “Deal. Tacos it is.”

We stayed longer than expected, talking more honestly than we had in a while. She admitted she sometimes assumes everyone can “just split it” the way she can. I admitted I sometimes struggle to restate my boundaries when I feel brushed aside.

It wasn’t a fight.

It was a correction.

As we walked out of the restaurant, she hugged me.

“Thank you,” she said. “For being patient. And for not making it weird.”