Putting a PIN on Love

At seven o'clock sharp, Andrew Cathcart came home.

The very first thing out of his mouth was a question for me.

"I saw the hospital charge came to 650 dollars, but I only sent you 300 dollars. Where did the rest come from?"

He looked over at me as he shrugged off his coat.

"I borrowed it from a friend."

"I knew it. You couldn't control yourself again."

"But that wasn't overspending," I said softly. "It was to spare my mother some of the pain."

"And I already told you it wasn't necessary." He frowned slightly. "Elena, being a good daughter isn't an excuse for everything.

"Today you're worried about sparing your mom this. Tomorrow, you'll want her to enjoy that. Before you know it, the money's pouring out like water."

I didn't answer him.

I only stared at the suit jacket he'd hung up, where the corner of a receipt peeked out of the pocket.

"I was planning to give you a gift, but now I'm returning it. Consider it payback for the extra money you spent today. Don't let it happen again."

He dangled a small metal bag charm in front of me.

Before he could put it away, he heard me say, "That's the free gift for spending over 100,000 dollars on handbags in-store. You're very generous with her."

Andrew's hand froze.

"You saw that?"

His expression stayed perfectly natural. "That's a reward I promised her a while back.

"The project she assisted on bumped the company's marketing numbers up ten percent in the third quarter.

"She earned it. Rewards are based on individual value.

"And you? You're a housewife. Instead of caring about the chores you're supposed to be doing, you spend every day keeping tabs on what freebies some luxury brand hands out?"

He pressed his lips together and looked me over, disappointed. "After all these years, you still haven't settled down?"

Something inside me suddenly let go.

I had given up my career to become a wife "wholeheartedly" devoted to running the household because Andrew himself had once told me, "I'll take care of you. I don't want you working so hard."

And after three years of living that out without a single complaint or regret, he had the gall to call me worthless and undeserving of anything.

I stood up, went back to the bedroom, and took out the document.

"Sign it."

I pushed it in front of Andrew.

It was a divorce agreement.

Andrew read only the first few words of the title before turning his head away with a helpless sigh.

"What's gotten into you today?"

He tossed the document aside like trash. "The thing with Sasha and the thing with your mom. I believe I've already explained both of them. Elena, what exactly are you trying to pick a fight about?"

I opened my mouth, but before I could make a sound, a phone call cut me off. Andrew answered it.

"Not just my floor. Replace them on every floor."

He lowered his voice and spoke into the phone. "Sasha says the old brand of tissues feels too rough. It hurts her hands. Just do what she says. You don't need to run it by me anymore."

He put the phone down.

I looked him straight in the eye. "She thinks a tissue feels uncomfortable, so you'll replace every single one for her.

"But my mother is fifty years old. They're going to push a tube that long down into her stomach, and you say general anesthesia isn't necessary."

Andrew froze, and his breathing turned impatient again.

"I told you, didn't I? Your mom grew up in the countryside. She can handle a little pain like that just fine."

Countless memories suddenly flooded my mind.

When Mom's phone broke, he dug a secondhand one out of a scrapyard for her, saying she'd never get used to anything high-end anyway.

On her birthday, he bought the cheapest muffin from the corner store and stuck a candle in it, saying old people didn't care about things like that.

It was true that Mom could put up with a lot, all to keep the peace between Andrew and me.

But I didn't want to put up with it anymore.

"Sign it."

I handed him the document again.

He turned around and left, slamming the door hard behind him.

An hour later, the power went out in the mansion, and a text from Andrew came through.

Andrew: [Put that nonsense away, and I'll send you money for the electric bill.]

I sat in the dark, and the corners of my mouth tugged into a self-mocking smile.

Then I made a phone call.

"Start the process to transfer my nominee-held shares back to me.

"That money... I want it back."