Chapter 5

Today was our second wedding anniversary.

I had been planning it for a week.

I had this naive fantasy that if I created a romantic atmosphere, we could have a real conversation. I wanted to ask him to stop this exhausting 50/50 lifestyle. I even wanted to talk about starting a family.

I took half the day off work to go to the high-end market.

I bought a fresh Boston lobster, prime Wagyu steaks, imported cherries, and a good bottle of red wine. I wanted to make a perfect dinner to show him how much I cared.

Maybe we were just too stressed. Maybe a baby would fix things. Maybe... maybe everything would get better.

I cooked from 3 PM until 8 PM.

The lobster was steamed perfectly, the steaks were seared, the wine was decanted, and the candles were lit. I wore a beautiful silk dress and put on makeup.

But by 8 PM, he wasn't home.

I shot him a Snapchat: *When will you be home?*

*Working late. Not sure,* he replied.

By 9 PM, the food was getting cold. I put the lobster back in the oven to keep warm.

By 10 PM, the steaks were ruined, overcooked from being reheated.

By 11 PM, I fell asleep on the couch, exhausted.

At 1:00 AM, the front door finally clicked open.

Ethan walked in, smelling strongly of alcohol.

He saw the dining table and froze, his eyebrows knitting together in a hard scowl.

"Why are you still awake?"

"Waiting for you," I said, standing up. My legs were so numb I almost tripped. "Happy anniversary. I made dinner."

He walked over to the table, glanced at the dishes, and his face twisted in anger.

"Why did you buy all of this? Do you think ingredients are free?"

I stared at him, numb. "What?"

"Lobster, Wagyu, imported cherries..." He pointed at the plates, his voice rising. "How much did this cost? Three hundred dollars? Four hundred?"

"Ethan, it's our wedding anniversary..."

"An anniversary gives you the right to throw money away?" he snapped. "It's all cold and ruined. What a waste. You're paying for all of this month's groceries!"

"Actually, pay for the whole thing. I'll just eat out this month. This food is way too expensive, and I'm not splitting it with you."

Suddenly, my head began to spin.

It wasn't just anger. I was physically burning up. My forehead was scorching hot, and my throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

"Ethan," I whispered, holding onto the edge of the table. "I think I have a really bad fever. Can you please get me some medicine?"

He looked at me, his eyes filled with nothing but annoyance. "What a hassle..."

He turned and went into the bedroom. I leaned against the wall, the room spinning around me.

Five minutes later, he walked back out, holding a sheet of Advil.

"Here." He tossed a single pill to me.

I caught it, my hands shaking violently.

"This pack of Advil was twelve dollars for twelve pills," he said, pulling out his phone and opening his calculator app. "You owe me one dollar. Transfer it to my PayPal."

I stared at the tiny white pill in my hand.

And then, I laughed.

The laughter bubbled up from my chest, growing louder and louder until I was bent double, tears streaming down my face.

Ethan stepped back, looking at me like I had lost my mind. "What is wrong with you?"

I stood up straight, wiping my eyes.

The fever had blurred my vision, but my mind had never been clearer.

My voice was dead calm and steady. "Fine. You want to go 50/50? I'll play your game. I'll play it to the bitter end."

Ethan frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said." I turned and walked toward the bedroom. "I'll transfer you the dollar. Oh, and by the way, this anniversary dinner cost $300. You owe me $150. PayPal me tonight."

"What?!" he yelled. "Why should I pay for that? I didn't even eat it!"

"Because you didn't give me any notice that you weren't coming home. Honestly, you're lucky I'm not charging you for my labor."

He shut his mouth, stunned.

I locked the bedroom door and leaned against it, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I realized something. Playing by his rules was actually incredibly liberating. Why should I be the only one suffering? If we were going to be miserable, we might as well both be miserable.

I opened my phone and went to my photo album.

For the past two years, I had saved every single transaction, every Venmo request, every Snapchat argument, and every Excel sheet.

I used to think they were just records of our life together. Now I realized they were my ammunition.

Ethan, you love 50/50?

I’m going to give you exactly what you wanted.