I Earned 10000 Points, But My Boyfriend Favors His Stepsister

The server placed the Elvis-style peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich in the center of the table.

"Elena, minus five hundred points."

My boyfriend of six years, Cole Harrison, didn't even look at me. His voice sliced right through the loud cheers of the Richmond University wrestling team celebrating their championship win.

"Mia has a severe peanut allergy," he stated, his tone completely flat. "Even cross-contact from a shared plate could send her into anaphylactic shock."

I didn't say a word. I just stared at the smears of peanut butter oozing along the edge of the ceramic plate.

We had an app on our phones called the Scorecard. It had started during our freshman year as a playful inside joke to track chores and favors. But over the years, as Cole’s wrestling career took off and his ego grew with it, the app warped into a psychological leash. Bring him lunch at the athletic complex? Plus ten points. Give him space after a bad match? Plus twenty. Don't complain when I was sick so I wouldn't distract his training? Plus fifty.

A thousand points earned a weekend trip. Three thousand got him to drop a bad habit.

Ten thousand meant marriage.

I opened the app under the table. The number 10,000 had flashed on my screen just an hour ago—the finish line of a grueling, six-year emotional marathon. Now, I watched the digits roll backward, settling at a glaring 9,500.

This wasn't the first time he had penalized me for his stepsister.

"You deducted three hundred points last week just because I didn’t give up my front-row seat for her fast enough," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Cole didn't flinch.

"You deducted two hundred when I brought her water two minutes late," I continued. "You took four hundred yesterday because she said the truck was too cold, and I hadn't even unbuckled my seatbelt to reach the AC dial yet."

"Don't frown," Cole murmured, turning entirely away from me.

He wrapped an arm around Mia’s shoulders. She sat so close to him that their thighs pressed together under the booth. She wore his oversized gray team hoodie, the drawstring pulled playfully tight around her face.

"I'll buy you that new designer bag you wanted after dinner, Mia," he promised her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

He slid the heavy leather-bound menu across the table. It hit my water glass with a sharp clink.

"Look closely at the menu this time," Cole instructed. "Otherwise you'll cry when I deduct points again."

I pushed the menu back with the tip of my finger.

"I'm not eating this meal."

Cole’s jaw tightened. He dropped his fork onto his plate with a dull thud.

"Elena, what are you throwing a tantrum about now?"

A strange, hollow smile stretched across my face.

"Nothing. I just don't want to collect points anymore."

Mia tugged on the sleeve of Cole's Richmond Wrestling quarter-zip.

"Cole, don't deduct so much," she whispered. Her voice trembled just enough to draw the attention of the other wrestlers down the table. "Elena saved for six years. She didn't do it on purpose. She probably just forgot about my allergy."

Cole placed his large, calloused hand over Mia's wrist.

"You know how severe your allergy is," he told her gently.

He snapped his gaze back to me. The warmth in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by sheer ice.

"Rules are rules. Are you going to take responsibility if she ends up in the emergency room?"

I pointed directly at the plate in the center of the table.

"Don't you know why I ordered it?"

Cole scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

"Today Mia is at the table. Even if it's my favorite sandwich, you shouldn't have ordered it."

He loved spicy food. I had a sensitive stomach that couldn't handle it. Whenever I ate hot wings or jalapeño poppers just to share a meal with him, my stomach would burn for hours. He never once poured me a glass of water while I suffered through it.

Yet for Mia, he demanded an absolute peanut-free zone from the kitchen staff. I had asked him ten times over the last six years to spend a single weekend at the beach with me. He always claimed he had mandatory conditioning. But if Mia wanted to go to a music festival across state lines, the world stopped spinning.

"Cole, I reached ten thousand points tonight."

The clinking of silverware stopped. The guys at the other end of the table went dead silent.

His dark eyebrows pulled together.

"Are you making up numbers to bluff me?"

"You made the rules," I replied. "Ten thousand points, and you marry me."

He uncrossed his arms.

"I was going to tell you tonight. After this dinner, I thought we would finally talk about rings." I locked eyes with him. "But you deducted five hundred."

Cole pulled his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through the app, his expression entirely bored.

"Then keep saving. You still have nine thousand five hundred."

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. Instead, a short, dry laugh escaped my throat.

"But I don't want to save anymore."

Cole stared at me for three seconds. He let out a harsh breath of disbelief.

"What act are you playing, Elena? Playing hard to get doesn't work on me."

He tossed his phone onto the table.

"You didn't say this when you were down to three thousand points."

I dug my nails into my palms under the table, forcing the tears back down into my chest.

"What about Mia?"

Cole's posture went rigid.

"Why do you book reservations at the most exclusive restaurants the second she asks?" I demanded.

"Keep your voice down," he warned, glancing around.

"Why do you drive across town at midnight to bring her a blanket when she says her dorm is drafty?"

"She's family."

"Why do you wake up at five in the morning to drive her to the mountains to watch the sunrise?"

I stood up. My chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.

"And I have to save a thousand points, three thousand points, ten thousand points, just to get you to treat me like a human being?"

Cole’s face turned into a mask of cold fury.

"You've had enough. What does she have to do with this?"

"Everything."

"We grew up together," Cole shot back, his voice rising over the music. "She is my stepsister. Isn't it normal we have a close relationship?"

I pointed directly at Mia.

"What sister leans on her brother like a lover?"

Mia flinched, pulling the hood lower.

"What sister wears your team gear every single day, and wears a silver ring you bought for her?"

Mia stood up quickly. Her eyes were already bright red, tears pooling in the corners.

"Cole, Elena, this is my fault," she stammered, grabbing her purse. "I lack boundaries. I'll just go—"

Cole caught her arm immediately.

"Sit down."

He pulled her back into the booth. Outside the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows, November rain hammered heavily against the glass.

"It's pouring outside," he murmured to Mia, his tone instantly softening into something tender. "Where would you go?"

I watched them for two seconds. He shielded her from a cold drizzle, yet he was the one actively drowning me.

I picked up my purse from the empty chair next to me.

"Elena!"

I didn't stop walking.

"Fine!" Cole shouted after me, loud enough for the entire dining room to hear. "If you have any backbone, walk out and don't come back!"

I pushed the heavy glass door open.

"Don't come crawling back apologizing in two days like you always do!"

The freezing rain hit my face the moment I stepped onto the sidewalk. I turned to look at the restaurant's window one last time.

In the warm glow of the interior, Cole was draping his heavy varsity jacket around Mia's shoulders, leaning in close to whisper comfort into her ear. Reflected on the dark surface of the wet glass was my own figure, standing completely alone in the downpour.

I turned my back on the restaurant, stepped off the curb, and hailed a yellow cab.

He didn't know.

This time, I was never coming back.