Chapter 1

Andrew Carter took his payroll card from me while I was checking this month's mortgage payment.

"Em just got divorced, and her kid is about to start kindergarten. I'll help her out for a few months," he said.

He said it so casually that it felt like it was nothing, as if he was only taking a bit from what belonged to us anyway.

I glanced at the mortgage payment reminder on my phone and didn't stop him.

The house was bought before we got married, and the deed was in his and his parents' names. The mortgage was also under his name.

For five years, I've been the one transferring the 3,000-dollar payment every month into the mortgage account.

Andrew always said that we had been married, and neither of us should keep score.

I used to think so, too.

That was until he started using his salary to bail out his ex-girlfriend, all while taking it for granted that I'd keep footing the bills for his family.

I unlocked my phone and turned off the automatic payment for the mortgage.

*****

The next day, Georgia Carter, my mother-in-law, called. "Why hasn't the mortgage payment gone through this month?"

I was packing the last of my clothes into my suitcase.

I answered, "You should ask Andrew about that.

"He's using his money to help someone else, so I think it's only fair I use mine to help myself."

Georgia paused for a couple of seconds, then her voice suddenly shot up.

She snapped, "How can you say something like that? Drew's helping someone out, and the mortgage is your responsibility as his wife. Emily's already struggling, raising her kid alone.

"Why are you being so petty about it?"

Right then, I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock at the bedroom door.

Andrew walked in, his suit jacket draped over his arm and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

He must've heard his mom's voice from the hallway, because as soon as he stepped inside, his eyes landed on the open suitcase. His brow creased.

He said, "Mom, let me talk to her."

Then, he took my phone and hung up.

"Where are you going?" Andrew asked.

I wrapped up my charger and slipped it into the side pocket of my suitcase.

"I'm moving out," I said.

Andrew's eyes fell on the closet. My side was already mostly empty, with a few thick coats and winter sweaters left hanging there.

His face darkened. "Sarah, I'm only taking back my payroll card. Do you have to blow things up like this?"

"The card was always yours. I never stopped you," I said.

"Then what's with stopping the mortgage payment?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

I zipped up my suitcase, checked how heavy it was, then pulled out two books and stuffed them into my tote bag.

Andrew stood in the doorway, refusing to let me pass.

"We've been living here together since we got married, and the mortgage has always been paid this way. If you suddenly stop, who's going to take the hit with the bank?" he said.

"It's on the borrower," I replied.

"You know I have to send money to my parents every month, and there's the car loan, too."

"All the more reason to keep your salary for yourself."

Andrew stared at me, as if he couldn't believe I'd ever hit him with such a cold, heartless answer.

When we got married five years ago, Andrew was making 4,000 dollars a month, and I was making 5,500 dollars.

The Carter family bought the house we were staying in. The total down payment was 240,000 dollars. Seventy thousand dollars were from them, and the rest, 170,000 dollars, was a loan.

Georgia said that the deed was already in their names, and changing it would be a hassle, so we'd wait until the loan was paid off.

Back then, Andrew held my hand and said that family didn't need to worry about whose name was on the deed.

I paid for the renovations.

Every month, 3,000 dollars for the mortgage got pulled straight from my account, like clockwork.

Andrew handed over his salary to me, and I took care of everything, including utilities, property fees, groceries, clothes, and holiday gifts for both our parents. At first, it was enough.

But then his dad got diagnosed with high blood pressure, his mom had gallbladder surgery, and Michael needed money for his wedding. The payroll card kept running dry, and I was always the one making up the shortfall.

Andrew never bothered to ask.

He only noticed that the bills never piled up, his parents always got the care they needed, Michael's wedding went off without a hitch, and there was always food in the fridge.

Last night, after Emily's call, he sat there on the couch, silent for half an hour, lost in his thoughts.

She'd gotten divorced, and her ex kept skipping out on child support. She was still 6,000 dollars short for her daughter's kindergarten tuition, and her lease was almost up.

Andrew said he couldn't stand by and let her end up with nowhere to go.

After he finished talking, he asked me for his payroll card.

When I handed it over, I saw him let out a sigh of relief. He must've thought everything was handled. Emily's troubles were sorted, and the Carter family's life would keep moving forward as usual.

He never once wondered where the mortgage money would come from now that he'd taken his payroll card.

Andrew reached out and pressed his hand on my suitcase.

He said, "Em's situation is different. Her parents aren't here, and her ex won't lift a finger for their kid. What's wrong with me helping her out for a while?

"You're usually so compassionate. Why does it all change when it's her?"

"How much are you planning to give her?" I asked.

"I'll pay her rent and cover the kindergarten fees, then help her out with living expenses every month. Once she finds a steady job, I'll stop helping."

"How long is this going to last?"

"Who can say?" Andrew shrugged. "It's not like I can put a timeline on it."