Blood and Aurora

The camera in Cole’s hand slipped with a sharp click, knocking against the corner of the table.

He looked at me blankly.

“Divorce? Why? Because I didn’t buy that pot? Or because I bought plane tickets to Iceland without discussing it with you first? Sadie, you want a divorce over something so small?”

They were all small things, but when enough seeds scatter across the ground, picking them up one by one could drive anyone to the edge.

“Cole, I’ve told you this many times. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want our bank balance dropping to single digits every month. I don’t want to swipe a credit card every time we pay for something. I don’t want us running around the city again and again, renting one place after another. Being with you… is exhausting.”

Cole looked like he had just heard the biggest joke in the world. His voice rose as he argued back, “Being with me is exhausting? I work hard every day. I want to take you to see the most beautiful landscapes. I want to record our life with the best cameras. And that’s what makes you exhausted?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what makes me exhausted!” Three years of frustration burst out all at once, and I couldn’t stop myself from shouting.

I opened the notes app on my phone, scrolled to the very top entry, and then turned the screen toward Cole.

“Cole, do you remember this?”

It was a simple record that stated our goal was to put down a down payment for a house, our current total was 47,218 dollars, and our progress was at 21.2 percent. The last update was from three years ago, the afternoon we first fell in love with that small apartment.

Cole’s gaze flickered.

“You were the one who said you wanted to get us a house. The overtime pay I earned from working late nights, the money I saved from every coffee I didn’t buy… all of it went into this fund. Do you remember where that money ended up?”

I opened another screenshot. It was a travel invoice that had long since expired.

“In the first month after we got married, you maxed out your credit card to prepay for that Arctic photography tour. When your salary was delayed, and you couldn’t pay the card bill, we couldn’t even cover rent. That’s when we used this money.”

Then, I pulled up more digital receipts, one after another.

“And this, that skydiving experience camp you insisted on attending last year, you used our emergency fund for it. And you even spent another 5000 dollars on brand-new gear. And two months ago, when we finally managed to save a little again… you bought a new car. You took out a loan for a performance car because you said driving something exciting made life more interesting. Cole… have you ever thought about our future?”

His lips moved, but no sound came out. He simply lowered his head.

“Every time we go grocery shopping, I compare prices and calculate weight. But all you do is stand there on your phone, impatient, telling me to grab whatever because it was only a few dollars. When I suggested we take some classes to learn new skills, since layoffs were happening everywhere, you said it was a waste of money. Then, you went and bought a new camera.

“I budget carefully for months, but when you spend money on games with your credit card, you don’t even think before spending.”

…

Maybe hearing me recall everything one by one finally ignited Cole’s anger.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and said, “Sadie, can you stop being so pragmatic all the time? All you care about are pots, pans, rent, and utility bills. If life is nothing but those things, then what’s the point? I’d rather be dead. I just want our life to mean something.”

Tears slipped helplessly from my eyes as I replied, “Meaning? But your ‘meaning’ has left us unable to pay this month’s water bill.”

Cole’s face turned pale with anger.

“Money! It’s always money with you! We can always earn more money, but some opportunities, once missed–”

I didn’t want to continue arguing like this, exhausted and drained, so I cut him off, “It’s been three years. Every time I said we should save for a down payment, you said renting was better because it gives us more freedom. Every time I worried about the uncertainty of the future, you said, ‘Why overthink it? Let’s just enjoy the moment.’

“Cole… I want a house, and you can’t give me that.”

The words pinned him in place, and he couldn’t find anything to say.

The room fell silent except for the sound of our heavy breathing. I looked at the man I had loved for three years—the carefree spirit that once made my heart race. Now, it just looked like someone refusing to grow up.

I turned my head and saw the suitcase he had packed in the corner. Suddenly, the storm of emotions inside me quieted. Then, I looked back at Cole.

“Make your choice. Are you going to chase the northern lights… or face the utility bills at home with me?”