No name. Just two words

I was on a date. The bill came, and the waitress said, “Sir, your card was declined.” He turned pale. As we left, she grabbed my arm and whispered, “I lied.” She slipped the receipt into my hand. I turned it — in frantic writing, there were two words: “Google him.”

My stomach dropped.In the cab home, I did exactly that. His smiley profile popped up first — polished photos, a successful job, charming captions. But then I added one more word: arrested.The articles appeared instantly. Fraud. Identity theft. Multiple aliases.

The air felt thin. I replayed the evening — how he avoided personal questions, how he paid in cash for drinks before dinner, how he kept checking his phone.My phone buzzed. A message from him: “Had a great time. Let’s meet tomorrow.”I blocked the number.The next morning, I sent flowers to the restaurant.

No name. Just two words: “Thank you.”