Chapter 1

I was ironing Tanner's shirt when a receipt slipped out of the pocket.

It was from Forever Jewelry, for 6 thousand dollars.

Our wedding anniversary had just passed, and he'd told me the company was having a tough time, so I shouldn't buy any gifts this year.

I didn't get anything from him either.

6 thousand dollars. I stuffed the receipt back into the pocket and heard him on the balcony, talking on the phone.

Tanner said, "What could she possibly get? She hasn't worked in six years. The court won't give her much.

"Relax, I had someone check. Anything valuable isn't even in her name."

He lowered his voice and let out a laugh. "Once everything's taken care of, we'll go to Sheonga."

I turned off the iron and folded his shirt perfectly.

My hands didn't tremble, and my heart didn't even flutter.

For six years, for more than two thousand days and nights, I'd ironed every shirt of his without a single wrinkle.

Now it was my turn to iron out the last wrinkle in this marriage with my own hands.

*****

The balcony door slid open, and Tanner walked in, the trace of his phone-call smile still lingering on his face.

When he saw me standing by the ironing board, his smile disappeared, and he slipped his phone into his pocket like nothing happened.

"Is Donna asleep?" he asked.

"I just got her to sleep," I replied.

Tanner just went, "Mm," and settled onto the couch, crossing his legs.

I hung the freshly ironed shirts up on the rack.

I glanced at them, white, blue, gray. For six years, I've ironed over a thousand shirts.

"Emily Powell," Tanner called out.

He suddenly called me by my full name, his tone as formal as if we were in a business meeting.

"Sit down. I need to talk to you about something," he added.

I sat down across from him.

He pulled a document out of his briefcase and slid it onto the coffee table. "It's the divorce papers. I had my lawyer draw it up. Take a look."

I flipped to the second page, the section about splitting the assets.

[Given that the wife had no steady income during the marriage and cannot prove she made any substantial contribution to the family's assets, the house, the car, and all company shares will remain with the husband. The wife will be compensated with 30 thousand dollars.]

30 thousand dollars. Six years. That was about 5 thousand dollars a year. Roughly 13 dollars a day.

Six years, it was not short, and it was not long.

It was cheaper than hiring someone by the hour.

Tanner said, leaning back into the couch, "The terms are more than fair. Just think about it.

"You haven't worked a single day in six years, haven't brought in a dime. I paid for the house, bought the car, and built the company."

He paused. "30 thousand dollars. That's enough to tide you over."

I just stared at him, not saying a word. "Donna's staying with me. My mom will help out. She'll be better off with us."

He added, "If you go out and get a job now, what kind of starting salary do you think you'll get?

"Maybe a little over a thousand a month, tops. How are you going to provide for a kid with that?"

The shirts on the coffee table were still giving off heat.

I glanced down at the space between my thumb and index finger on my right hand, a scar from steam.

That burn happened three years ago, and the scar is still there, just a faint white line now.

"I'll think about it," I said.

"Alright, no rush," Tanner replied, standing up and patting his leg. "You've got three days."

He walked into the bedroom, and the door closed behind him.

I sat on the couch, picked up the agreement, and carefully read every word.

Then I grabbed my phone and sent a message to my friend, Audrey Padilla.

I texted, [Audrey, can you help me book a time at that family law firm you mentioned last time?]

She replied in three seconds, [Tomorrow at 2 PM. I'll be there myself.]

The next day at noon, my mother-in-law showed up. She didn't even bother to call first, just let herself in with her spare key.

I was dishing up Donna's food when I heard the door open. I looked up and saw Mira Deleon slip off her shoes and walk in.

She glanced at the dishes on the table. "Just this?" she asked, her tone sharp.

I didn't answer. I just placed Donna's bowl in front of her.

"Tanner told me," Mira said, sitting down without even picking up her fork, folding her hands on the table. "You've really thought this divorce through, haven't you?"

"Mira, I..." I began.

She cut me off. "Six years you've been calling me that, but you never acted like you belonged in this family."

Donna startled, looked at me, then at her grandma, and quietly set her spoon down.

"Look at you, thirty-three, no job, no income, just sitting at home all day," Mira said, her voice low but every word hit hard. "Tanner's been supporting this whole family by himself. Is that easy for him?"

I opened my mouth, wanting to say that Tanner was the one who told me to quit my job in the first place.

Six years ago, Donna had just been born, and Tanner's company was expanding. He was always on the road.

Mira said her back was too bad to handle a baby, and she didn't feel comfortable hiring a nanny.

Tanner took my hand and said, "Emily, why don't you quit your job for a couple of years? Once Donna starts kindergarten, you can go back to work. I'll take care of you."

He was the one who promised, "I'll take care of you."

"Mira, Tanner was the one who told me to quit..." I started.

"So he tells you to quit, and you just go along with it? Can't you think for yourself?" Mira slapped the table. "Honestly, you're just lazy and spoiled.

"Gotten way too used to sitting around at home, never wanting to step out and work."

Donna started crying, scared by the loud smack on the table.

I scooped her up, holding her close and gently patting her back.

"Emily, I'm saying this straight," Mira said, getting to her feet. "Tanner's offering you 30 thousand dollars for Donna's sake.

"If you know what's good for you, just sign it. Dragging this out won't help anyone."

She walked to the door, then turned back. "Donna will be raised by the Deleon family.

"She'll have a better life with us than with you. How much could you possibly earn in a month? Don't ruin her future."

The door closed behind her.

Donna buried her face in my shoulder and whispered, "Mommy, Grandma's so mean."

I hugged her tighter. "Don't be scared, sweetheart. I'm here."

After Donna fell asleep that night, I opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet and pulled out a manila envelope.

Inside was a sheet of A4 paper, yellowed with age. It was the "family agreement" Tanner had written six years ago.

In black and white, it read: [During the period when Emily Powell is taking care of the family full-time, all family income and assets shall be jointly owned by both parties.

[If this leads to a divorce, Tanner Deleon must compensate Emily Powell for her lost career earnings, with the amount no less than the average total income for her profession over those years.]

At the very bottom was his signature, Tanner Deleon. The date was September 14, 2018.

Tanner had probably forgotten about this paper already. But I never did.