My Stingy Ex Is Rich With Regret

My partner, Derek Crawford, calls himself a traditional man.

On our tenth anniversary, I bought him a pair of his favorite AJ sneakers. Instead, he gifted me a bag of pastries.

"Your cake is extremely tiny, and yet it costs you a few dozen dollars! Look at the pastries I got you—not only are they cheap, but they are also huge in quantity! Now this is what I call worth it!"

After that, Derek tells me that he'll make it up to me by throwing an engagement party. He has also invited my parents and my relatives to the party.

With anticipation brimming in our eyes, we arrive at the restaurant, only to see Derek serving us with store-bought pickles and dinner rolls.

"I'm a traditional man, you see. I'm not used to fancy food and foreign cuisines. This, right here, is the basics of a traditional dinner. You don't see patriotic men like me nowadays!"

My relatives' expressions change drastically on the spot. Meanwhile, my parents look very mortified. I can only smile awkwardly at them while doing everything I can to stop them from leaving.

But as soon as I leave the hotel, I receive a notification from the bank that 200 thousand dollars have been deducted from my account via a supplementary card linked to it.

At the same time, Derek's childhood sweetheart, Renee Young, posts a photo of her 12-layered luxurious cake on her social media account.

"When I told Derek that I wanted to celebrate my birthday, not only did he buy me the most expensive strawberry cake, but he also reserved a dozen or so tables that are served with the grandest feast!

"If your man loves you that much, he won't need any lessons in pampering you! Traditional men definitely know how to love and pamper their queens!"

I tighten my grip on my phone. As I look back at Derek, who keeps claiming that he's a traditional man stuck to his traditional ways, I suddenly find it exhausting to continue being in a relationship with him.

"Mom, Dad, I've always said it. Derek isn't cheap; he's just old-fashioned. He doesn't know the first thing about romance. He specifically chose your favorite restaurant for the engagement dinner. Look how much he cares about you both!"

But when I pushed open the door to the private dining room, my smile died on my face. On the large banquet table sat a single plastic tray piled with dinner rolls and a jar of store-bought pickles.

Derek Crawford stood at the head of the table, humming cheerfully to himself as he poured canned iced tea into the wine glasses.

"Derek."

I stared for a moment, then turned away from my parents' burning glares and pulled him aside.

"Didn't I give you 200 thousand in our joint account? It's already past 1:00 pm. Where's the food?"

"I got the food. That's it right there."

He pointed at the dinner rolls with the expression of a man who