Chapter 3

That night, I didn't sleep. I went through all eight account books.

When I finished, I sat there staring at the numbers for a long time.

So it really was like that.

I hadn't just felt like something was off. It had actually been off all along.

Eight years. Hundreds of expenses, big and small.

I checked them one by one, added them up one by one, and the more I counted, the colder I felt.

On the renovation alone, I'd paid 43000 dollars more than he had.

Social expenses came to 29000 dollars.

Then there were all those random everyday costs he'd asked me to cover first. Added together, that was over 10000 dollars.

There were smaller expenses too: things he bought on my credit card and promised to repay, plus loans that somehow vanished instead of being returned.

I added it all together.

83000 dollars.

Over those eight years, I'd paid 83000 dollars more than he had.

And the funniest part was that we were supposedly splitting everything fifty-fifty every month, and he still thought he was being fair.

The next morning, I went to the hospital with food like usual.

Claire wasn't there. James was alone in bed.

When he saw me walk in, he braced himself and tried to sit up.

"Don't move." I set the lunch jar on the bedside table. "Chicken soup. Drink it while it's hot."

He looked at me, his eyes a little red. "Emily, don't take what my mom said yesterday to heart. She was just panicking. She didn't mean it."

I said nothing and handed him the spoon.

He took it, lowered his head for a sip, then looked back up. "But about the apartment, can you think it over one more time?"

I looked at him.

"I really have no other choice." His voice shook. "If I don't get the surgery, I'm just waiting to die. I don't want to die, Emily. I'm only thirty-five."

Tears rolled down his sallow face.

I admit it. For one second, my heart softened.

We had been married for eight years after all. We'd shared a bed for that long. Seeing him like this, there was no way I felt nothing.

But that tiny bit of softness was quickly drowned out by other memories.

The receipt he held out to me when I had a fever.

The way he stood there in silence during the holidays.

The way he pretended not to hear me every time I asked him about the renovation money.

Every single image was crystal clear.

I said, "James, let me ask you something."

James replied, "Go ahead."

"These past eight years, with this whole split-the-bill marriage, do you really think it was fair?"

He froze for a second, then nodded. "Of course it was. That's how we've always done things, right?"

"Then how much do you think you paid, and how much do you think I paid?"

"Probably about the same." He answered smoothly. "Our salaries were about the same too. Half and half sounds pretty reasonable to me."

I let out a short laugh, "Fine. Let's leave this here for now. I'll talk after I've made up my mind."

I got up to leave, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Emily!" His hand was cold and clamped down hard. "What the hell does that mean? Are you seriously going to abandon me?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't help." I pulled my hand back. "I said I'll decide after I think it through."

"Think through what? How long do you need?" He was getting frantic, his voice turning sharp. "I'm lying in a hospital bed right now. Are you going to keep thinking until I'm dead?"

I didn't answer.

"Emily, you really have no heart." he shouted. "I'm this sick and you're still calculating everything with me!"

I turned and walked out of the room.

Behind me, I could hear him crying out, his voice full of fear and anger.

I didn't look back.

That afternoon, Claire came.

This time, she didn't get straight to the point. The moment she walked in, she grabbed my hand with teary eyes.

Claire pleaded, "Em, I know you've been wronged all these years, but Jamie really has no way out now. He's your husband. Can you really stand there and watch him die?"

I looked at her face.

The tears were real. The words were not.

It reminded me of something.

Three years ago, my dad was hospitalized for heart surgery. After insurance, we still had to pay over 10 thousand dollars out of pocket. I was short on cash and wanted to borrow some money from the Carter family to get through it.

The second I brought it up to Claire, her face changed.

That smile vanished completely, like I'd just said something unforgivable.

"Why is your father's illness our problem?" she said. "Everyone takes care of their own parents. We don't owe you that."

James stood right there and didn't say a word.

I looked at him, and he turned his head away.

In the end, I borrowed that money from coworkers and spent a full year paying it back.

And now she was standing here telling me, "He's your husband."

I asked, "Claire, three years ago when my dad was in the hospital and I asked your family for help, what did you say?"

Her tears paused for a second.

"You said everyone's responsible for their own parents, and that you had no obligation."

"That was different." Her voice lost some of its force.

"How was it different?" I looked straight at her. "My father was an outsider, but your son isn't? Then what am I? Eight years of free labor?"

"How can you talk like that?" Claire's face went red. "My son is this sick and you're still bringing up old crap!"

"I'm not the one bringing it up." I tried to keep my voice even. "You're the ones insisting on settling accounts with me."

"Didn't you agree to this split-the-bill marriage yourself?" Her voice rose sharply. "Back then you made it sound so nice, all that independence and fairness. Now that my son is sick, you're turning your back on him?"

I didn't say anything.

"I'm telling you, Emily, if you dare abandon my son, I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of person you are!"

"Fine." I nodded. "Then let everyone know."

I took a notebook out of my bag and placed it on the bedside table, "Claire, if you want to settle accounts, I'll do it with you."

"What's that?" She asked.

"Our expenses for the last eight years." I looked at her. "Every single one, written down nice and clear."

She stared at the notebook, and her expression changed.

I turned to James.

"Are you sure you want me to go through all of it?"