Chapter 1

My mother-in-law Mavis's phone was sitting on the table, unlocked.

I only meant to help her check a tracking number for her package. She was busy washing dishes in the kitchen, and her phone was left on the coffee table, with its screen still lit up.

I spotted a transfer record on Mavis's phone. She had transferred $2,000 to someone.

The recipient was someone I'd never even heard of.

I scrolled up a bit.

Last month, $2,000. The month before that, $2,000. And the month before, still $2,000.

Mavis transferred $2,000 to that person every 15th of the month, like clockwork.

It was the exact same day I sent Mavis her monthly living expenses. Same amount, too.

My finger hovered over the most recent transaction.

In the notes section, it read: baby formula.

My husband, David Jones, and I had been together for five years now, but we had no kids.

*****

I put Mavis's phone back on the coffee table—same spot, same angle.

Mavis called out from the kitchen, "Haley, did you find the tracking number?"

"No, Mavis. Maybe it's on your other phone," I replied.

"Never mind, I'll ask at the delivery station tomorrow."

"Okay."

I sank into the couch, the TV blaring in the background, but none of it registered with me.

$2,000. Every 15th of the month.

I sent Mavis her living expenses every 15th, too. And the amount was also $2,000.

Ever since David went overseas, I had been doing that for five years straight and had never missed a month.

I started calculating. $2,000 a month, and then five years...

No. This wasn't the time to calculate that.

Baby formula. Whose kid needed baby formula?

The recipient's name was unfamiliar, but it was right there on the screen, clear as day. I'd already memorized it.

It was Sarah Thompson.

I didn't know anyone named Sarah Thompson.

Mavis came out of the kitchen, dried her hands, and glanced at me. "Haley, you don't look so good. Did you not eat enough?"

"I'm full," I said.

"Then turn in early. You have work tomorrow."

She picked up her phone, glanced at the screen, and then locked it.

It was all so casual, like she did this every single day.

I went back to my room, closed the door, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Fireworks were bursting outside. It seemed that someone in the nearby neighborhood was celebrating a wedding.

David had been overseas for five years now.

He kept saying he was stuck in Germino because of work. Every year, he promised that he'd be back next year, but he never actually came home.

We only talked through video calls, maybe two or three times a week. He was always swamped, and our conversations rarely lasted more than ten minutes.

I understood. Projects abroad really were demanding.

So I was paying the mortgage alone, taking care of Mavis alone, spending holidays alone, and holding this family together alone.

My monthly salary was $4,000. The mortgage ate up $1,800, and Mavis got $2,000. The rest couldn't even cover my commute and lunch for the month.

The cheapest meal at the company cafeteria was five bucks. I'd been eating that for five years.

But it was fine. David always said things would get better once he was back. Once his project was done, and once he got that promotion, he'd make up for everything he owed me.

'"Just wait a little longer." That was what he always said.

And every single time, I believed him.

I pulled out a notebook from the nightstand.

This was the notebook I used to track every income and expense. I'd started it the year I got married, and hadn't missed a single day since.

I flipped to the most recent month.

It read: [15th, outcome: $2,000. Note: Mavis's living expenses.]

On that same day, Mavis sent the exact same amount to someone named Sarah Thompson. Note: baby formula.

The amounts matched perfectly.

I stared at the words in my notebook for a long while.

My grandma used to tell me, "Haley, you have to leave yourself a way out in life."

Back then, I didn't understand what she meant. But now, I got it.

I picked up my phone and opened the food delivery app. Not to order anything, but to check something.

Last year, David had helped me log into his account. He said he didn't need it in Germino, so I could use his membership.

I tapped into the order history. It was empty. Not a single order.

Then I tapped on the "Delivery Addresses" section.

There were two addresses. The first one was our place, and the second one was somewhere I'd never seen before.

It was in the same city and the same district. Just 2.5 miles from our home.

The note next to it read: Home.

I set my phone down.

My fingertip grazed the edge of the case, my nail catching in the seam. It stung a little.

I went to wash my hands, and then lay down.

The lights stayed on all night.

The next morning, I left for work at seven-thirty, like always.

Mavis was still asleep. She never got up before nine.

I had breakfast at the company cafeteria. It was a set that cost three bucks.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd had anything else for breakfast.

When was the last time I ate something good?

I seemed to be last year, when a coworker treated everyone to dinner for her birthday. I only had a few bites.

My coworker asked, "Why aren't you eating more?"

I said I was trying to lose weight.

But it wasn't really about losing weight. I got used to eating less. After I pinched pennies for five years, my stomach wasn't what it used to be.