Receipt for a 50-50 Marriage

When I opened my eyes again, my daughter was sleeping peacefully in the bassinet next to my bed.

Desmond crept quietly into the room.

"Babe, I was wrong. Can you forgive me?"

Then he grabbed my hand.

"Look, you gave us such a beautiful little girl! How about I treat you to a real Hermès bag?"

Even now, he was still trying to manipulate me.

I coldly pulled my hand away.

"Desmond, I want a divorce."

But he refused to let it go.

"You want a divorce over something this small? We have a daughter now! What about her?"

His voice got louder and woke the sleeping baby.

Hearing the commotion, a nurse hurried in and picked up my crying daughter.

"No shouting in the recovery room. The baby needs to go for her checkup now."

Desmond shifted uncomfortably next to my bed.

"Amy, you're really divorcing me over such a little thing?"

I replied slowly, emphasizing every word. "A debt must be paid. That's just basic decency."

He immediately exploded like someone who'd been caught red-handed.

"We're family! Why do you always have to nickel-and-dime everything? You just look down on me for being poor, don't you? You money-hungry gold digger!"

I laughed, so angry I could barely speak.

"Me? A gold digger? I supported you. I even supported your precious cousin!"

At that moment, Janet crept timidly through the doorway.

"Desmond… Amy… If you two are getting divorced because of me, I'll pay back the 260,000 dollars."

I shot her a cold look.

"With what? The real LV bags you stole from me?"

That shut her up instantly. Her eyes filled with tears.

And just like always, Desmond immediately stepped in front of her.

"Since when did you get so nasty? Picking on a young girl like this—you should be ashamed of yourself!"

I was too exhausted to keep watching their disgusting little act.

I grabbed my IV pole and chased them both right out of the room.

But not long after, Desmond came back carrying a bag of cheap baby formula and diapers.

"Babe, don't divorce me. From now on, I'll pay for the baby's formula and diapers myself. No more splitting it with you. Consider it my punishment, okay?"

I grabbed the bag of junk—worth maybe forty bucks—and hurled it at him, screaming at him to get out.

He jumped back so fast not a speck of formula even touched him.

By then, a crowd had gathered outside the room, pointing and whispering.

He rushed back in and grabbed my hand tightly.

"Amy, what do you even want from me?"

I struggled with everything I had but couldn't break free from his grip. My face twisted in pain.

"What do I want?"

"I already told you—I want a divorce, and I want my money back!"

"260,000 dollars, Amy!" he shouted. "Even if you sold me, I wouldn't be worth that much!"

"Then go sell yourself!" I screamed back. "I don't care how you get the money. Sell a kidney, sell your liver, become a gigolo for all I care!"

Desmond completely lost it.

He raised his hand like he was about to hit me.

I immediately shoved my face toward him and sneered.

"Go ahead. Hit me. Let's see if you have the guts."

We stayed locked like that for nearly thirty seconds.

Finally, he slowly lowered his hand.

"Please, Amy. At least think about our daughter."

I cut him off immediately.

"What do you mean our daughter? She's my daughter. You didn't spend a single cent or lift a single finger."

Just as he opened his mouth to argue back, my phone started ringing nonstop.

It was the police.

"Hello, are you a family member of George Patterson and Celeste Wilburn?"

"Yes."

"They were involved in a traffic accident at an intersection. They're currently being transported to Geolser Hospital."

My mind went blank with a deafening buzz.

Geolser Hospital—the same hospital I was already in.

I ran out like a woman possessed.

Desmond froze for a second, then ran after me.

By the time we got to the emergency room, my parents were still in surgery.

The officer told me a driver had run a red light and slammed straight into their car.

My whole body turned ice cold. I collapsed weakly onto the floor.

Desmond carried me to a bench.

For once, he didn't mention splitting costs or going fifty-fifty.

He just silently patted my back.

Leaning against his shoulder, I actually felt a flicker of warmth.

Nobody knew how much time passed before the doctor finally came out and shook his head at us.

"I'm so sorry. We did everything we could."

My vision went black. I hit the floor again and lost consciousness.

…

When I woke up again, I was back in the hospital room.

Desmond was sitting by my bedside. He immediately stood up.

"Babe, you're awake."

I stared blankly at the ceiling.

I wanted to speak, but my throat was so raw I couldn't make a sound.

"I've already taken care of your parents' funeral arrangements."

I closed my eyes and weakly squeezed his hand, desperate for even the smallest bit of comfort.

Over the next few days, Desmond pushed me around in a wheelchair while I said goodbye to my parents one last time.

Janet stayed busy the whole time too, helping out wherever she could and acting incredibly sweet and devoted.

The day after the funeral, Desmond handed me an itemized bill.

"Amy, this is the cost of your parents' surgery and all the funeral expenses. The total comes to 25,200 dollars. I'm not charging you for my own time, but you should give Janet 750 dollars for hers."

My heart clenched so hard I could barely breathe. My whole body shook with rage.

Fine. Then let's settle every single account. Once and for all.