Sabina brought me a coffee machine when I moved in. She said it was her old one, though the box looked new, and that she would be glad to see me use it. Later she found a handyman, lent me curtains, and brought lunch several times. I was alone after a long relationship ended, and her attention meant more than all the objects. I did not count the gifts because I believed she was not counting either.
The first request came as a small favor. She needed an order spreadsheet organized for her shop, and I worked with numbers. I finished it that evening. Then customers needed answers, accounts needed preparing, and I needed to stay available over the weekend. When I said I had my own job, Sabina mentioned the coffee machine or curtains still hanging in my window. She said it jokingly, so I laughed too while opening my computer.
One Sunday she called during lunch with my new partner. It was not urgent, but she wanted the work done immediately. I said I could only manage Tuesday. Her silence lasted long enough for the familiar guilt to arrive. Then she said she had thought she could count on me for what she herself had given. I looked at the man opposite me and realized I was again explaining why I must leave my own afternoon.
On Tuesday I returned her curtains and coffee machine. She was surprised, then offended, insisting gifts should never be returned. I said I was not returning friendship but objects that had become a bill without an amount. Sabina accused my partner of changing me. Imagining his influence was easier than hearing my decision. I showed her a proposal for the work she wanted, with a price and clearly specified hours.
She did not accept. We did not speak for several weeks. The apartment felt strange without curtains, and coffee made in a small pot needed more attention. I missed Sabina, especially on evenings when I remembered how often she sat with me during difficult times. I did not rewrite those moments as lies just because she behaved badly later. Still, I no longer wanted gratitude to become a job with unlimited hours.
We next met in a queue at the market. We asked how each other was, awkwardly, like distant acquaintances. Sabina said she had hired someone to handle orders. I replied that I was glad. She did not offer coffee, nor did I. We exchanged a smile that promised no return to the past. I bought curtains with money earned from my own work and spent almost an entire afternoon choosing them.