When the money’s there — but never for you.
In the early years, I didn’t think it mattered. We were building a life together. His account, my savings, joint dreams. I thought love meant not keeping score.
I was wrong. What I didn’t know then — and what many women don’t realize until much later — is that financial abuse rarely looks like empty bank accounts. Sometimes, it looks like money being there… just not for you.
It starts subtly
He takes care of the big stuff — rent, insurance, the car. You’re “just” managing groceries, gifts, and utilities.
You don’t ask for money, because you were taught not to be “demanding.” You were raised to be accommodating. So you make do.
You use your savings to buy birthday presents for his family, replace household items, pay school fees “just this once.” You tell yourself, we’re a team.
- But slowly, you notice:
- He never asks what you need.
- He expects you to cover more than you said yes to.
- You feel nervous every time you bring up money.
- You downplay your own needs because “he’s already stressed.”
And then, the pattern sets in:
You carry the invisible costs. He controls the visible ones.
Then come the lies
You discover the credit card you thought was maxed out isn’t.
You realize he’s been sending money to his parents — not occasionally, but monthly, and without ever telling you.
You find out the reason you couldn’t buy the washing machine was because he was secretly saving for his new SUV.
And when you bring it up?
You’re met with one of three things:
- Anger — “Why are you spying on me?”
- Dismissal — “You’re overreacting.”
- Guilt — “I’m doing my best, isn’t that enough?”
What you don’t get is honesty. Or accountability. Or partnership.
This is financial infidelity.
Not just secrecy. Betrayal.
Not just budgeting. Control.
Not just imbalance. Power.
Financial infidelity happens when one partner hides, withholds, manipulates, or weaponizes money — in a way that erodes the other’s autonomy.
It’s not always about being broke.
It’s about making the other person feel like asking for financial safety is selfish.
This is financial infidelity.
- You stop buying things for yourself.
- You cut corners, then feel guilty for complaining.
- You borrow from your parents, but hide it.
- You lose track of your worth — not just in rupees, but in identity.
You start asking for ₹1000 like it’s a favor. Meanwhile, he spends ₹10,000 without blinking.
You question your judgment. You question your needs. You question whether this is even abuse, because he’s not stopping you from working, right?
Except — He is. Just… differently.
Here’s what I wish someone had said:
- Financial control is emotional control.
- Transparency is basic, not romantic.
- If you’re scared to ask how much is in the account, something is already wrong.
- You don’t owe anyone your silence just because the bills are paid.
For the woman reading this with a knot in her stomach
Maybe you’re not sure if what you’re experiencing counts. Let me tell you what does:
- If you feel like you have to justify your expenses.
- If you’ve stopped asking for what you need because the conversations always end in a fight.
- If you feel like you’re surviving, not choosing — financially.
Then yes. It counts. You are not crazy. You are not ungrateful. You’re just waking up to the math you weren’t supposed to solve.
You deserve more than survival.
You deserve shared responsibility, not silent sacrifice. You deserve budgeting that doesn’t erase your needs. You deserve partnership, not patronage.
And most of all, you deserve to feel safe — even when the topic is money. Leave a comment — no need for details. Just say “I’ve felt this too.”
