Everything Divided

"Gabriel Cole, sign this agreement. Before we got married, I told you that to keep our marriage pure and prevent money from contaminating our feelings, every household expense from now on will be split absolutely fifty-fifty."

Linda Frost crossed her legs and pushed a printed Post-Marriage Financial Separation Agreement toward me.

Beside her, her fourteen-year-old son Mason was holding a tablet and playing games.

When he heard what Linda said, he didn't even look up. He rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Uncle Gabriel, Mom's doing this for your own good. What era are we living in? Men and women are equal now. Men should be financially independent too.

"Men who get married and then try to take advantage of women are basically freeloaders.

"Since you married my mom and moved into our house, you can't expect her to support you forever, can you?"

Looking at the mother and son taking everything for granted, I clenched my fists. The pain in my knuckles reminded me that this wasn't a dream.

I'd really been reborn.

In my last life, Linda had suddenly produced this agreement on this exact day.

Back then, for the sake of family harmony and to prove I wasn't after her money, I'd signed it without hesitation.

And what happened? Her so-called fifty-fifty system was nothing but a tool to drain me dry.

The mortgage, car insurance, property fees, utilities--she used a calculator and split every cent down the middle.

But groceries, Mason's tutoring, gifts for relatives and friends--those all somehow became my responsibility because "you're the elder, you should help out" or "I bought a bag this month and I'm tight on cash."

Even more ridiculous, the money was split fifty-fifty, but the housework never was.

After work every day, I handled everything: grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, washing Mason's clothes, helping him with homework.

I gave up my entire salary and all my energy. In the end, when my mother was lying in the emergency room waiting for life-saving money, what I got from Linda was one cold sentence: "Can't you have a little respect for the contract?"

Decades of sincerity, poured out for two heartless leeches who took everything and gave nothing back.

"Gabriel Cole, why are you spacing out?" Linda frowned when I stayed silent, impatience creeping into her voice.

"You make eight thousand a month. It's completely reasonable for you to cover half the household costs."

"Besides, I paid the down payment on this apartment. The mortgage is six thousand a month. You paying half is basically rent. That's fair, isn't it?"

Fair? It was too fair.

I took a deep breath, forced down the hatred boiling in my chest, and looked at her coldly.

"Sure. I'll sign."

I picked up the pen on the coffee table. A flash of triumph crossed Linda's eyes.

She thought I was still the same sucker who'd compromise endlessly for love and family.

"But if we're doing fifty-fifty, we do it all the way." I didn't sign right away. Instead, I opened the agreement and quickly wrote several lines into the blank space.

"Linda Frost, contractual integrity doesn't only apply when it benefits you. Since our finances are absolutely separate, labor and obligations must be absolutely separate too. I've added three clauses.

"First, household labor is absolutely fifty-fifty. Cleaning common areas, cooking, and washing dishes will either be done in rotation or outsourced to a housekeeper, with the cost split equally. If one party does the other party's share, the other party must pay market-rate labor fees.

"Second, family support is absolutely separate. Your mother is your mother. My mother is my mother. Birth, aging, illness, and death are each person's own responsibility. We don't interfere, and we don't pay for each other.

"Third, child-related expenses are absolutely separate. Mason is your biological son, not mine. His tuition, living expenses, tutoring fees, and emotional support are all your responsibility. I won't be involved."

After I finished writing, I slapped the pen onto the table and pushed the agreement back.

"Take a look. If there's no problem, sign and put your thumbprint below."