Fifty-Fifty: Mr. Blake, This Is What Fair Looks Like

Catherine

Mason looked at me in shock.

“What do you mean by this?” he asked, waving the document at me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going 50/50,” I replied. “This is being fair. You love fairness, don’t you?”

“Five million dollars?” he shouted. “And you think this makes any sense?”

“Yes, it does,” I said, tightening my grip on my shirt to stop my tears from slipping. “We’re going to split the cost of everything you’ve made me endure over the past six years of our marriage—pregnancy, house chores, taking care of the kids. You’re paying for all of it. The deadline is the end of the week.”

He froze in shock as I stood up and walked out of the room, the last piece of hope in my heart shattering.

Mason and I had been married for six years. Mason Blake, the CEO of L&T Group and head of the Blake family.

Marrying him was a mistake.

I was just an ordinary office worker who got drunk at a party and somehow ended up in bed with the CEO. He had been drugged too, but for some reason, he believed I had planned everything to trap him.

Then I got pregnant.

He had no choice but to marry me, and from that moment on, he resented me.

Before we signed our marriage certificate, he made me sign a contract. Everything in the marriage would be split 50/50. He wanted to make sure a “gold digger” like me wouldn’t get a penny.

And stupid, desperate me—so eager to prove I wasn’t after his wealth—signed it immediately.

What I didn’t understand then was that his version of fairness was never meant to be fair to me.

I handled my pregnancy alone—doctor visits, morning sickness, everything. I paid half of every bill while still taking the subway to work, even though we worked at the same company. I cooked, cleaned, and managed the nursery by myself.

I did everything.

I told myself it didn’t matter. I believed that if I was a devoted wife, he would eventually appreciate me. That he would come to understand that I had never been after his money.

I was wrong.

It didn’t get better. It only got worse.

After I gave birth to our twins, he smiled at them… and then asked me to pay half for the medication the doctor prescribed for me. He even charged me for the time he spent in the hospital—time he said he should have been working.

Still, I stayed.

I held on to hope. I thought he would eventually love the children—and maybe extend that love to me.

But I was wrong again.

He didn’t change.

I don’t even know if he truly loved the kids. What I do know is that he never wavered from his idea of “fairness.”

If he bought gifts for the kids, I had to pay my share.

School fees and extra lessons—we split them.

When they got sick and had to be hospitalized, we split the bills, and I had to pay for his time if I wanted him there.

Even the pocket money he gave them—he monitored it closely to make sure none of it ended up with me.

And yet, every morning, he woke up to warm food on the table.

Every evening, he came home to a clean, organized house.

His laundry was always done.

I became a shell of myself.

The love and hope I once had slowly faded, but I endured—for the kids. I believed a peaceful home was best for their growth. I told myself I just had to hold on for a few more years, until they grew up.

But eventually… I reached my limit.

The breaking point came on a chaotic Thursday morning.

I woke up late. My son must have tampered with the alarm—it had never happened before. I had to be at work by 8:00 a.m. and still drop the kids off at school.

I rushed to prepare breakfast and pack their lunches. I dressed them for school, but I hadn’t even bathed or gotten ready myself. It was already 7:35 a.m.

There was no way I could make it.

I begged Mason, who was already heading out, to drop the kids off. He refused, saying it was my responsibility and that he would be late since their school was not on his route.

He knew that.

I had taken that detour every day for over four years. But to him, it was just a hassle.

Then he said the words that shattered me completely.

“It’s your responsibility, Catherine. Will you pay me for the time I lose taking that detour?”

I froze.

That was when it finally hit me.

This wasn’t a marriage. It wasn’t even fairness.

It was a set of shackles.

A constant debt hanging over my head.

We weren’t husband and wife—we were a debtor and a creditor. And I had been the fool trying to turn it into something more.

I cried in the bathroom for five minutes after he left.

Six years of effort… for nothing.

When I finally washed my face and looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize the person staring back at me.

I had lost so much weight. My cheeks were hollow, dark circles sat under my eyes, and my clothes were worn out from years of use. After paying my share of every bill, I couldn’t even afford new clothes.

My skin was dry and rough.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I bought skincare.

I stepped out of the bathroom and looked around the house—and suddenly, everything became clear.

The couch I wasn’t allowed to sit on because he bought it.

The mug I had broken and had to replace—because it wasn’t mine.

Everything in the house was divided into his and mine, based on who paid for what.

This was never a marriage.

Just two people trapped together because of the kids.

And it was never going to be anything more.

I quietly called out, “Ethan, Mara.”

They ran to me. Mara wiped her oil-stained lips while Ethan adjusted his buttons.

They were the only things in this marriage that were truly mine.

The only reason I had endured for so long.

I helped Ethan fix the rest of his buttons and smoothed Mara’s hair. Then I loosened my own bun, letting my hair fall.

“Let’s go, babies,” I said, grabbing their hands. “You’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”

“But Mom,” Mara whispered, “you’re not dressed yet. Aren’t you going to work?”

I smiled.

“I’m off work today, baby. I have all the time in the world.”

After dropping them off, I knew it was too late to go to work. I called in sick and went straight back home.

I looked at the mess around me…

…and for the first time in years, I did something different.

I ignored it.

And I went to sleep.