Chapter 2 · The Stay‑at‑Home Mom's Divorce Battle

Diana rested her head on my shoulder and whispered, "Mommy, Grandma is so mean."

I held her close. "It's okay, sweetie. Mommy's here."

That night, after Diana fell asleep, I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a manila envelope.

Inside was a sheet of A4 paper, yellowed with age.

It was the "Family Agreement" Zachary had written six years ago.

It stated: [While Leila Jenkins is a full-time homemaker, all family income and assets belong to Zachary Flynn and Leila Jenkins equally.

[Should this result in divorce, Zachary Flynn must compensate Leila Jenkins for the loss caused by her career interruption, with an amount no less than the total average income for the industry during that period.]

At the bottom was Zachary's signature.

The date was September 14, 2018.

He probably forgot all about this paper long ago.

But I never did.

*****

On Saturday, Zachary said he was taking Diana to the amusement park.

They came back at four in the afternoon.

Diana rushed into my arms, all sweaty and flushed from playing.

"Mommy, today was so much fun," she beamed.

As I wiped her face, she suddenly leaned in close to my ear. "Mommy, Daddy's car smells really good."

"What kind of smell?" I asked.

"It smelled sweet, but it wasn't your scent."

The five-year-old couldn't tell perfume brands apart, but she knew it wasn't mine.

I didn't press her further.

That night, while Zachary was in the shower, I picked up his phone.

The password was still Diana's birthday.

Pinned chat was someone named "Ms. Sullivan."

The chat history was wiped clean.

But he forgot to clear the payment records.

I scrolled through them one by one.

Flowers, once a week.

Desserts, two or three times a week.

The property management fees for a luxury apartment at Sunrise Estates, 16 hundred dollars a month.

I scrolled through his bank app.

Eight months ago, there was a transfer of 160 thousand dollars, marked "House payment."

The recipient was Yolanda Sullivan.

160 thousand dollars, huh?

When we got married, the ring he bought me only cost a thousand dollars.

He said there was no point wasting money on stuff like this.

I closed the app and put the phone back where it was.

The water was still running in the bathroom, and Zachary was humming to himself.

He hadn't hummed around the house in ages.

I sat on the edge of the bed, doing the math.

Flowers: about 60 dollars per bouquet, which added up to around 3 thousand a year.

Desserts: 30 dollars each, totaling about 4 thousand a year.

The apartment's management fees? 192 thousand dollars a year.

And there was the 160 thousand dollar "house payment."

In eight months, he'd blown no less than 180 thousand dollars.

It was all from our marital savings.

I'd always kept our grocery budget under a thousand dollars a month.

I'd only bought Diana's clothes during seasonal sales.

I'd packed our couch with old clothes to keep it usable when the springs in it broke.

He took the money I'd saved and bought a house for another woman.

Just then, the bathroom door opened. Zachary walked out, rubbing his hair with a towel.

"Diana's asleep?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He grunted, lay down on the bed, and turned his back to me.

Three minutes later, he started snoring.

I stared at his back for what felt like forever.

Then I opened my phone and saved the screenshots of him spending money on Yolanda in an encrypted album.

And the password wasn't Diana's birthday.

*****

The Flynn family's end-of-month dinner was a tradition set in stone.

I tied on my apron and spent two hours in the kitchen.

By the time I had finished setting the table, Zachary's sister Miranda had already arrived and was sitting in the living room, munching on peanuts.

Selena sat at the head of the table, not even glancing at the food.

"Leila, you should sit down," Miranda said.

I slipped off my apron and took the seat at the very edge of the table.

Miranda took a bite and smiled, "I heard from Zachary you haven't signed the agreement yet. Honestly, you're just a stay-at-home mom. Why are you dragging this out?"

Selena chimed in, "Zachary's offering you 30 thousand, which is more than generous. Go ask around; nowadays, maids only make 3 thousand a month."

After six years, she finally admitted it: I was just a maid.

Miranda set down her fork, giving me a serious look.

"Don't feel wronged," she said. "Zachary's working hard to support the family, while you're just home with the kid. Honestly, it's not like that's a big deal."

Diana was sitting beside me. Feeling something was off, she tugged at my sleeve.

I grabbed a rib and placed it in her plate.

"Sign the papers," Selena said between bites of soup. "If you drag this to court, what do you think you'll get? What do you have to your name anyway?"

Zachary stayed silent the whole time.

He sat beside Selena, eating with his head down, as if none of this had anything to do with him.

I looked at him.

He used to be different.

Chapter 2

Diana rested her head on my shoulder and whispered, "Mommy, Grandma is so mean."

I held her close. "It's okay, sweetie. Mommy's here."

That night, after Diana fell asleep, I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a manila envelope.

Inside was a sheet of A4 paper, yellowed with age.

It was the "Family Agreement" Zachary had written six years ago.

It stated: [While Leila Jenkins is a full-time homemaker, all family income and assets belong to Zachary Flynn and Leila Jenkins equally.

At the bottom was Zachary's signature.

The date was September 14, 2018.

He probably forgot all about this paper long ago.

But I never did.

*****

On Saturday, Zachary said he was taking Diana to the amusement park.

They came back at four in the afternoon.

Diana rushed into my arms, all sweaty and flushed from playing.

"Mommy, today was so much fun," she beamed.

As I wiped her face, she suddenly leaned in close to my ear. "Mommy, Daddy's car smells really good."

"What kind of smell?" I asked.

"It smelled sweet, but it wasn't your scent."

The five-year-old couldn't tell perfume brands apart, but she knew it wasn't mine.

I didn't press her further.

That night, while Zachary was in the shower, I picked up his phone.

The password was still Diana's birthday.

Pinned chat was someone named "Ms. Sullivan."

The chat history was wiped clean.

But he forgot to clear the payment records.

I scrolled through them one by one.

Flowers, once a week.

Desserts, two or three times a week.

The property management fees for a luxury apartment at Sunrise Estates, 16 hundred dollars a month.

I scrolled through his bank app.

Eight months ago, there was a transfer of 160 thousand dollars, marked "House payment."

The recipient was Yolanda Sullivan.

160 thousand dollars, huh?

When we got married, the ring he bought me only cost a thousand dollars.

He said there was no point wasting money on stuff like this.

I closed the app and put the phone back where it was.

The water was still running in the bathroom, and Zachary was humming to himself.

He hadn't hummed around the house in ages.

I sat on the edge of the bed, doing the math.

Flowers: about 60 dollars per bouquet, which added up to around 3 thousand a year.

Desserts: 30 dollars each, totaling about 4 thousand a year.

The apartment's management fees? 192 thousand dollars a year.

And there was the 160 thousand dollar "house payment."

In eight months, he'd blown no less than 180 thousand dollars.

It was all from our marital savings.

I'd always kept our grocery budget under a thousand dollars a month.

I'd only bought Diana's clothes during seasonal sales.

I'd packed our couch with old clothes to keep it usable when the springs in it broke.

He took the money I'd saved and bought a house for another woman.

Just then, the bathroom door opened. Zachary walked out, rubbing his hair with a towel.

"Diana's asleep?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He grunted, lay down on the bed, and turned his back to me.

Three minutes later, he started snoring.

I stared at his back for what felt like forever.

Then I opened my phone and saved the screenshots of him spending money on Yolanda in an encrypted album.

And the password wasn't Diana's birthday.

*****

The Flynn family's end-of-month dinner was a tradition set in stone.

I tied on my apron and spent two hours in the kitchen.

By the time I had finished setting the table, Zachary's sister Miranda had already arrived and was sitting in the living room, munching on peanuts.

Selena sat at the head of the table, not even glancing at the food.

"Leila, you should sit down," Miranda said.

I slipped off my apron and took the seat at the very edge of the table.

Miranda took a bite and smiled, "I heard from Zachary you haven't signed the agreement yet. Honestly, you're just a stay-at-home mom. Why are you dragging this out?"

Selena chimed in, "Zachary's offering you 30 thousand, which is more than generous. Go ask around; nowadays, maids only make 3 thousand a month."

After six years, she finally admitted it: I was just a maid.

Miranda set down her fork, giving me a serious look.

"Don't feel wronged," she said. "Zachary's working hard to support the family, while you're just home with the kid. Honestly, it's not like that's a big deal."

Diana was sitting beside me. Feeling something was off, she tugged at my sleeve.

I grabbed a rib and placed it in her plate.

"Sign the papers," Selena said between bites of soup. "If you drag this to court, what do you think you'll get? What do you have to your name anyway?"

Zachary stayed silent the whole time.

He sat beside Selena, eating with his head down, as if none of this had anything to do with him.

I looked at him.

He used to be different.