Chapter 2

Three years ago, I met Ethan for the first time at a friend’s backyard party.

He was wearing a crisp white shirt. The sharp line of his jaw and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed instantly captured my heart.

Right then, I knew I was a goner.

Chasing him felt like running a never-ending marathon.

I bought him coffee and bagels in the morning; he took them without a word.

I invited him to the movies; he said he was too busy.

I confessed my feelings; he said he needed to think about it. For three whole years, I was like a tireless moth buzzing around his handsome flame.

My friends told me I was insane. They said that besides his looks, Ethan had nothing going for him. His salary was average, his family background was ordinary, and his personality was cold.

But I didn't listen. I was like a glitched program, stubborn and blind, refusing to stop until I crashed.

Then, after three years, he finally nodded. "Chloe, let's get married."

I cried tears of pure joy.

Our wedding was incredibly simple. Ethan said he didn’t want to waste money on a lavish ceremony.

I thought he was just being practical and financially smart. I even felt a smug sense of pride, thinking I had hit the jackpot—a gorgeous man who knew the value of a dollar. He was my dream guy.

On our wedding night, he stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

"Chloe," he said casually, "we need to set some ground rules early. From now on, we’re going 50/50."

I blinked, confused. "What?"

"We split the rent 50/50. Utilities 50/50. Groceries 50/50."

His tone was completely flat, as if he were discussing the weather. "I did the math. It’s the fairest way to avoid arguments down the road."

"But... we're newlyweds..."

"Even married couples need clear boundaries," he interrupted. "My ex-girlfriend and I broke up because of money issues. I don't want to repeat that mistake."

I thought about it and decided to let it go. I was a modern, independent woman with a good job. If he wanted 50/50, we could do 50/50.

I had no idea the nightmare was just beginning.

During our first month, he pulled out a detailed Excel spreadsheet. It was crammed with tiny rows of expenses.

Rent was $3,000. That was $1,500 each.

Utilities were $200. $100 each.

Groceries were $600. $300 each.

"Wait a second," I pointed at the screen. "All of these steaks and organic vegetables are things you bought for yourself. I don't even eat red meat. Why am I splitting this in half?"

He frowned, clearly annoyed. "We live together. Why are you being so petty over a few dollars? It's exhausting."

Looking at his handsome face, I swallowed my annoyance and let it go.

In our second month, my mother, Helen, came to the city for a medical checkup and stayed with us for a week.

Ethan kept a cold, stony face the entire time, barely uttering a word. The moment my mother left, he immediately pulled out his calculator.

"Your mom stayed for seven days. Food is $20 a day, and utilities increased by about $10 a day. That's $210 total. Are you paying me back via PayPal or Venmo?"

I stared at him in utter disbelief. "Ethan, that was my mother!"

"I know who she is. But she stayed in our apartment," he said, completely unfazed. "Even family members should keep their accounts straight."

Biting my tongue, I transferred him $220.

Three months into our marriage, I caught a bad cold. My fever hit 100 degrees, and I texted him to ask if he could pick up some medicine on his way home from work.

His reply on Snapchat was instant: *The pharmacy is out of my way. Just order DoorDash. Don't forget to pay the delivery fee yourself. That's your expense.*

That night, I wrapped myself in blankets and cried myself to sleep.

But even then, I didn't give up on him.

I kept telling myself that he was just overly rational. He would change.

After all, he was so handsome. I had chased him for three years. And most of all, I loved him.

Looking back now, I seriously want to slap my past self.