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I had been married to my husband for five years, and our anniversary fell on Christmas Eve. That night, I had a full spread waiting for him at home. I had cooked everything myself and set the table the way he liked it. While I was waiting for him, he was on Instagram posting a screenshot of a bank transfer to his first love. The amount was two million dollars. The caption read: [Happy New Year, my one and only.] I called him as soon as I saw it and asked what he thought he was doing. He sounded annoyed the moment he picked up. "Can you not do this right now?" he said. "She's in the hospital. She needs someone with her." I looked at the food on the table as it slowly lost what little warmth it had left, and I laughed. He thought he was the one playing the game. He had forgotten something. I was the one who made the rules. And at that point, the game had already ended.