Receipt for a 50-50 Marriage

Right after we got married, Desmond proposed that we have a fifty-fifty marriage, where we went Dutch for all expenses.

At the time, I actually thought he was trying to make things easier on me—like he didn't want me bearing the full financial burden.

But little by little, I started noticing how he'd constantly sweet-talk me into paying for everything.

"Honey, the house and the car are both in your name. I don't want people thinking I'm after your assets, so I'm afraid you'll have to cover those yourself.

"I know we're supposed to split everything evenly, but I really feel bad for you. How about we go half on the renovation costs and gas?"

He was always playing the victim while borrowing money from me—for his mother's surgery, for Janet's tuition, for their living expenses…

But not once did he ever pay me back.

What was I supposed to think? That marrying him was my personal contribution to poverty relief for his whole family?

I was so angry I couldn't sleep the entire night.

Even the baby in my belly kept tossing and turning restlessly.

By the next morning, dark circles had formed under my eyes.

The moment I opened the bedroom door, Desmond rushed over to help me. The rich smell of beef noodle soup filled the whole house.

I was starving. For a second, I almost forgot how furious I'd been the day before—lulled by his gentle act and the delicious smell of the noodles.

Then he opened his mouth.

"Honey, the noodles cost a dollar, the beef eight dollars, scallions 10 cents, and I'll count the gas and water as a dollar. As for labor, let's just say 2.50 dollars."

"That's 12.60 dollars total. Don't forget to Venmo me."

I stared at him in disbelief, my grip tightening on the spoon in my hand.

And yet he kept going, laying out his twisted logic like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

"Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? It took me a long time to cook this. I can't exactly work for free."

The longer I looked at him, the more like a stranger he became.

How had I never noticed before how completely shameless he was?

Furious, I threw the spoon straight at his face. It knocked his glasses right off and onto the floor.

"Desmond, do you seriously think I'm some kind of idiot you can take advantage of however you want?"

Humiliated and livid, he slammed his hand down on the table.

"What the hell are you talking about? How is this taking advantage?"

Cool as could be, I picked up a napkin, dabbed the corner of my mouth, and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh really? Then when exactly do you plan to pay me back for last year—the tuition, the living expenses for you and your cousin, and your mother's surgery? The total comes to 260,000 dollars."

Desmond's eyes went wide. His face flushed bright red as he snapped, "What are you trying to pull, Amy? We're married. Do we really need to nickel-and-dime everything like this?"

"But you said we were to split everything 50-50," I replied slowly, enunciating every word. "Each person handles their own income and expenses. Isn't that what you said?"

Then I mimicked his usual innocent, pitiful tone.

"Besides, honey, what does your mom being sick have to do with me? Why should I be the one paying for her surgery?"

His face cycled through shades of green and pale with rage.

"You're being completely out of line."

With that, he stormed into the home office and started whispering with Janet behind the closed door.

"She's getting more and more out of control lately. She actually wants me to pay her back."

Janet lowered her voice too.

"Desmond, don't be too upset. Amy is just hormonal because of the pregnancy. How about I apologize and try to smooth things over?"

"Smooth what over?" Desmond shot back. "She's pregnant, not a queen."

The moment I heard that, my heart sank and a sharp pain twisted through my stomach.

Suddenly, I remembered the IOUs I'd kept in the bedroom.

Back then, Desmond had signed them—pretending to keep his dignity while being flat broke.

But after searching the entire bedroom, I couldn't find them anywhere.

Just as I was about to go confront them, I realized they'd already left the house.

Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly got dressed and rushed over to Desmond's office to confront him.

"Tell me the truth. Did you take those IOUs?"

A flash of guilt flickered across his face, but he stubbornly refused to admit it.

I didn't bother arguing with him anymore.

Instead, I grabbed his phone and called Janet.

"Janet, let me ask you something. Did you go through my things in my room?"

Hearing how harsh my voice was, she immediately started sniffling again.

"No, Amy. I never go into your room. You don't allow it."

"You don't allow it?" I laughed coldly. "Since when have you ever cared about what I allow?"

Desmond shoved me aside and snatched his phone back.

"Amy, that's enough! Interrogating Janet like this in front of everyone at my office—what are people supposed to think of her?"

My back slammed into the sharp corner of a desk behind me. Pain shot through my body so hard I gasped.

Watching him defend Janet like that made bitterness rise in my throat.

"Fine! You two are one happy family! And I'm just the outsider standing in your way!"

With that, I turned and walked away.

But I'd only made it a few steps when my legs suddenly gave out beneath me, and everything went black.

…

When I woke up again, I saw the IV needle taped to the back of my hand.

Weakly, I looked around the room.

Desmond was nowhere to be found.

One of his coworkers told me he'd already finished up his work and would be there soon.

So even his job came before me.

Tears slid silently from the corners of my eyes.

Just then, Desmond hurried into the room, plastering a concerned look on his face.

"Babe? Babe, what's wrong?"

When I refused to look at him, he immediately grabbed my arm and started shaking me hard.

The nurse quickly stepped in to stop him.

I opened my eyes and stared at him.

"I'll ask you one last time. Where are my IOUs?"

His face twisted with impatience.

"I told you—I don't know! I don't know! I don't know! Why do you keep asking? You're so damn annoying!"

At that moment, Janet rushed in too, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Amy, are you okay?"

The second I saw the LV bag hanging from her shoulder—identical to mine—a wave of hurt crashed over me.

"What IOUs?" I yelled. "The IOUs for all the money you borrowed from me to live the high life! The IOUs for the tuition you scammed out of me just to buy designer bags!"

Janet's face went pale instantly, and she guiltily hid the bag behind her back.

Without those IOUs, I really had become nothing but a fool throwing money away left and right.

Acting on pure instinct, I lunged at her, desperate to tear off that fake innocent mask she wore.

But Desmond stepped protectively in front of her.

"What the hell are you doing now? You're pregnant and still acting like a rabid dog, snapping at everyone!"

I had never seen such cruelty in him before.

In that moment, all the strength drained out of my body, and I collapsed back onto the bed.

Right before they wheeled me into the operating room, I vaguely saw Desmond holding Janet in his arms, softly comforting her.

"You've had a rough day. After she has the baby, I'll buy you another Hermès."

"But Desmond, isn't it wrong to keep making Amy use fake stuff?"

"It's fine. She's old and used up by now. Why would she deserve something that nice?"

"Desmond, you're so good to me."

So every gift my loving husband had ever given me was fake.

But the ones he gave his cousin were real.

And he still expected me to go halfsies with him on the authentic price tags.

The grief was so overwhelming I felt like my heart might stop.