My fiancé told me Microsoft’s new buyout program might cost us our December wedding. I offered to postpone the honeymoon, cut the guest list, and even use some of my savings. He looked relieved when I suggested postponing everything. At first, I thought he was simply frightened about losing his financial security. I didn’t realize he had been preparing for a future in which I might not be included. Ethan had worked at Microsoft for six years as a program manager on a Windows-related team. We lived in Maryland, where I worked as a nurse, and our wedding was scheduled for December 19. We had spent almost two years planning it. Our venue was booked, our invitations had gone out, and we had already paid thousands of dollars in deposits. Then, on October 26, Microsoft announced a voluntary exit offer that could make approximately 60,000 employees eligible to leave with financial support. That’s roughly 27% of its 223,000-person workforce. Ethan received an email directing him to review his individual offer. He explained that Microsoft’s investment in AI was changing how the company operated, and he feared his position might become less secure even if he stayed. He wasn’t being told he had been fired. He had a choice: remain with Microsoft or accept a financial package and leave at the end of the year. According to the terms reported for the program, eligible employees’ severance depends on their level and length of service. Some would also receive continued health coverage and stock vesting. Ethan said his package would give him a few months of breathing room, but not enough to replace his salary indefinitely. “I can’t take a risk like this and get married in December,” he told me. “What if I can’t find another job?” I understood his fear. We had planned to combine our finances after the wedding, and neither of us wanted to begin married life struggling to pay the mortgage. I suggested we reduce the reception expenses and keep our honeymoon short. I even offered to cover a larger share of our household bills while he searched for work. He rejected every suggestion. “Claire, you don’t understand. This isn’t just about money.” That sentence stayed with me. Over the next few days, he became unusually secretive. He took calls outside, changed his laptop password, and started talking about needing a fresh start. When I asked whether he had decided to accept Microsoft’s offer, he said he was still thinking about it. Then, last Thursday, I went to his apartment to collect the receipts for our wedding vendors. We had agreed to review the remaining payments that weekend. His laptop was open on the kitchen counter. A notification appeared from a recruitment company, and I saw the words final interview confirmation before the screen went dark. I wasn’t proud of myself for looking, but I couldn’t ignore what I’d seen. When Ethan returned, I asked whether he had been applying for jobs. He admitted he had been interviewing for a position in Austin, Texas, before Microsoft announced the buyout. The company had now offered him a job. He hadn’t accepted it yet, but he had been discussing relocation dates and salary negotiations with the recruiter. The position paid slightly more than his current job. I asked why he hadn’t told me. He stared at the floor before admitting that he had been considering leaving Maryland for months. He wanted to live closer to his brother and had grown tired of the life we had planned together. He said he hadn’t known how to tell me because he knew I couldn’t easily leave my job or my mother, who depended on me for help with her medical appointments. Then he confessed something worse.