Chapter 2

The day I was discharged, I took a cab home alone.

I pushed the door open, and the nursery I'd put together so carefully had become a pet room.

The crib I'd spent three days assembling by hand, the little socks and little clothes I'd folded into neat stacks — all of it was gone.

Grayson and Sophie had their heads bent close together, drying off a puppy.

"Who gave you permission to touch my nursery?"

That nursery had taken me three months of hard work to set up.

Half of it Grayson had said was unnecessary, so I'd paid for it all myself.

Sophie spoke first.

"The dog just gave birth, she's weak. Grayson said your nursery was sitting empty for now, so we borrowed it to help her recover."

Grayson stood, his tone matter-of-fact. "It's just sitting there going to waste. Might as well let Sophie use it."

Anger churned up in me. "Did anyone ask me? And where are the baby things that were in that room?"

Sophie looked all innocent. "Grayson said you wouldn't be needing them for a while, so I threw them out to help."

"Aria, you're not going to be that petty about it, are you?"

Grayson planted himself in front of her.

"Aria, that's enough. You're barely through the door and you're already putting everyone on trial."

"Sophie was kind enough to help clean up, and this is the face you give her?"

My child's things. Never used once, and they'd thrown them out without asking me.

"Fine, use the room. But we settle it by the rules."

"The baby supplies I bought earlier were all brand new. You moved and ruined them without permission, so you'll reimburse me full price."

"And there's a fee for occupying the room. Charged by the day."

Grayson's face darkened.

"Aria, can you not nickel-and-dime everything?"

"The place is empty anyway. Sophie's only borrowing it for a while, and you're going to charge her rent?"

I held his hypocritical face in my stare, and a mocking curl tugged at my lips.

"You're the one who always wanted rules with me. Fifty-fifty, everything equal."

"Eight years of marriage. Rent split fifty-fifty, utilities fifty-fifty, groceries fifty-fifty."

"Even when I had morning sickness and couldn't eat, the leftovers got counted as my waste."

"You're the one who taught me the rules. What's wrong with me following them now?"

I'd left him with nothing to say, and it turned to humiliated rage.

"That's not the same thing. Sophie is like a little sister to me."

"She's got no one to lean on in this city. What's wrong with me looking after her a little?"

"You're my wife, you're the woman she calls her sister-in-law. You should be more gracious, more understanding."

Listening to him, all I felt was how absurd it was.

"My prenatal checkups had to be split fifty-fifty, but her dog gives birth and you drop seven grand and change without blinking."

"Grayson, your double standard is honestly disgusting."

Sophie's eyes reddened, and she dropped her head, wounded.

"Aria, it's all my fault, please don't fight."

"I shouldn't have troubled Grayson, shouldn't have taken over your room, but Mochi and her babies are living things too…"

Then she scooped up Mochi and ran out.

Grayson turned on me, his voice sharp.

"Aria, that's enough. When did you turn into such a mercenary, impossible person?"

"Sophie sat with Mochi through the birth. She's barely rested these past few days. Can't you have a little sympathy?"

I wanted to say I'd just lost a baby, that my body was weaker than hers. I wanted to say the dog hair set off my breathing, that I was allergic. I wanted to ask why he never had any sympathy for me.

But the words came to the edge of my mouth, and I swallowed them back down.

With a man who doesn't love you, everything you say is just making trouble.

The door slammed shut with a bang. Grayson had gone after Sophie.

From school uniforms to a wedding dress, eight years, I'd honored his so-called fifty-fifty and equality.

When he ran a fever, I sat up with him three nights straight. That didn't count as money.

When morning sickness left me unable to eat, he asked whether the leftover food could be counted as my personal waste.

I pulled a ledger out of the drawer, every day's spending recorded line by line.

Small as a twenty-cent plastic bag, large as rent, utilities, the mortgage.

I had eight of these ledgers.

I turned to the last page, picked up a pen, and added a line.

"Miscarriage hospital bill, $8,600, borne by Aria alone."

And our eight years of marriage ended right there.