Chapter 4
I cradled the drowsy Leila in my arms, surrounded by the frantic shouts of other parents and the cries of their kids. I felt like the whole world was spinning around me.
A doctor came over and asked me about Leila's medical history and whether she had any drug allergies.
I suddenly remembered Hadley boasting more than once that she kept all the family's medical records neatly organized, including Leila's, all "managed" by her.
But I had never seen those records myself.
I called Hadley to ask if Leila had any history of being allergic to penicillin.
The phone rang forever before she finally answered, sounding totally annoyed.
"What now? I told you I'm busy," she barked.
"Mom, the doctor's asking if Leila has any drug allergies. Didn't you say you had all that recorded?" I pressed.
"Ugh, I've got so many notebooks, how would I remember where I put them? Just handle it yourselves. She should be fine," she said.
"Should be?" My voice was icy.
"What do you mean, should be? This is life and death!" I snapped.
"Why are you talking to me like that? I just can't find it right now, okay? Besides, she's not even your real kid. Why are you so stressed out?" she shot back.
With that, she slammed the phone down on me again.
I stood in the busy hallway, clutching my freezing phone, feeling like every drop of blood in my body had turned to ice.
The grip of money, without me even realizing it, had wormed its way into every part of my life. And now, it could even threaten the life of an innocent child.
That night, I lay on the hospital cot and didn't sleep a wink.
Leila's breathing was so close, soft and steady, but barely audible.
I stared at the ceiling, my mind running through all the unfairness and hurt I had been through these past three years, like a never-ending movie in my head.
All my patience, all my putting up with it. What did it get me?
It got me a husband who ignores me, a mother-in-law who treats me like dirt, and the helplessness of not being able to protect someone when it really counted.
Why?
Why could Warren so comfortably hand his salary to his mom, while mine had to fill this bottomless pit?
Why could he play the carefree lord, enjoying a "worry-free" life, while I carried the weight in this marriage, my dignity stripped away?
No.
I couldn't take this anymore.
Just before dawn, I made up my mind.
A decision that would turn everything upside down.
I picked up my phone, scrolled to that familiar number, took a deep breath, and called her up.
"Mom," I said.
My mother answered softly. "Katelyn, why are you calling so early? Is something wrong?"
My tears started falling again, and I couldn't stop them.
But this time, it wasn't out of despair. It was because I had finally found my way out and someone I could truly rely on.
"Mom, do you have a moment? I want to give you my salary card. Can you keep it safe for me?" I said.
Over the weekend, I went back to my childhood home.
My mom, a retired teacher, was out on the balcony, tending to her flowers with her reading glasses perched on her nose.
The sunlight streamed over her gray hair, bathing her in warmth and serenity.
I walked over, carefully took out my pay card and a nearly empty savings book from my bag, and solemnly placed them on the table in front of her.
"Mom, this is everything I have," I said.
I told her everything that happened last night and all the unfairness and hurt I had been through these past three years.
I thought she'd be shocked, maybe even angry, and feel indignant on my behalf.
But she listened quietly, her eyes full of concern at first, then gradually filled with clarity and resolve.
My mom took off her reading glasses, picked up the pay card, and gently ran her fingers over it.
"Silly girl, why did you wait so long to tell me about all this?" she said softly.
Her voice was gentle, but it was like a warm current, melting all the ice in my heart in an instant.
"I was afraid you'd worry." I lowered my head, my voice choked with emotion.
"I'm not worried, Katelyn. I'm here for you," she said, taking my hand. Her palm was dry and warm, radiating strength.
"Katelyn, remember. At any time, we should never give up her financial independence. Money isn't just money. It's your backbone, your dignity, and your right to choose how you live," she said.
"Don't hold back; do what you want. I'll always be your strongest support," she added.
As I walked out of my mom's place, I felt like I had been reborn.
The huge burden I had been carrying for three years was finally gone.
In its place was a sense of freedom and resolve I had never known before.
When I got back to the place I shared with Warren, I started strictly following my "no spending" plan.
The first day, Warren got home from work and found a bowl of plain pasta with a few sprigs of steamed broccoli on the dining table.
He frowned. "This is what we're having for dinner?"