He Spent Two Years Mocking How Tired I Looked While I Paid Every Bill. He Never Mentioned Whose Name Was on the Mortgage

The first was the dry cleaning — our account could not absorb dry cleaning that week; I had been doing our shirts by hand at the kitchen sink for a month.

And the second was the networking.

Trent had not networked, not looked for work, not sent a resume, in the better part of two years.

He spent his afternoons on the couch with a game controller while I worked eighty-hour weeks.

And now, suddenly, he had important suits and important meetings on a Thursday morning.

“Sure, Trent,” I said, keeping my voice flat and easy.

But as I buckled the children into the van — Theo fighting the straps, the baby already fussing — something cold and certain closed around my chest, and it did not let go.