He Wouldn't Buy Me Dinner, But Bought Her Diamonds

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The plate of noodles from this place smelled amazing today. I snapped a photo of the food stall and sent it to Hugh Henson.

No reply.

I sent another one. "Working late?"

"Want me to bring you a plate?"

The chat stayed silent.

Only after I'd finished the last bite did a message pop up: "Can you stop sending me this useless stuff all day?"

"It's a waste of money."

Staring at those words, my eyes started to burn. I was about to apologize when I caught the little red dot on my social feed.

It was Christine Chavez, Hugh's assistant.

She'd posted a photo of a necklace, captioned: "Thank you for the surprise, Mr. Henson."

That necklace. Last month I stood in front of the store window looking at it for ten minutes.

Hugh had tugged me away, impatient. "Stop looking. We can't afford it."

I swallowed the ache in my throat.

I tossed the takeout box in the trash and headed home.

Hugh and I had been together five years.

From when he had nothing, all the way to his company taking off, until everyone called him Mr. Henson.

And me, I quit my job and became his full-time housekeeper.

He always said, "I'll take care of you. You just stay home and enjoy the good life."

But I couldn't even buy a ten-dollar plate of noodles without him scolding me for wasting money.

Then he turned around and bought his assistant a necklace worth thousands.

So it wasn't that we couldn't afford it.

It was just that I didn't deserve it.

When he got home, I laid it out plainly.

"Hugh, I found a job."

"I'm moving out tomorrow."

His hand, mid-tap on his assistant's post, froze. His head shot up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that from now on, whoever you buy necklaces for is none of my business."

...

I smiled a little. Calm.

His face darkened instantly, and he slammed his phone down on the couch.

"Libby Fox, what are you throwing a fit about now?"

"Over one necklace?"

"Seriously?"

"Christine is my right hand. What's wrong with rewarding her?"

Looking at him, I felt like I was staring at a stranger.

"Hugh, it's not about the necklace."

"It's that you think one plate of noodles for me is a waste of money."

He stalled, like he wanted to say something.

I didn't give him the chance.

"For years I cooked for you, did your laundry, took care of everything in your life. Even if that earned no credit, it earned something."

"In your eyes, I'm only fit to stay home, not even allowed to spend a little of my own man's money?"

"But your assistant can just casually accept a gift from you worth thousands?"

My question left him with nothing to say, his face flushing red.

"That's not what I meant..."

"That's exactly what you meant." I cut him off. "In your heart, I've long been nothing but a free maid, a burden who only reaches out for money."

I pulled open the closet. A handful of old clothes inside.

"These five years, do you have any idea how much money I saved you?"

"I never asked you for a cent of wages. I never made you buy me a single new outfit."

"I just wanted a plate of noodles."

"Hugh, just a plate of noodles."

My voice began to shake, and the tears fell before I could stop them.

He came over to hold me, and I shoved him away.

"Don't touch me."

"You disgust me."

He froze where he stood, shock and anger tangled in his eyes.

"Libby, stop being unreasonable."

"I have an important meeting tomorrow. I don't have the energy to fight with you."

He picked his phone up off the couch, turned, and went into the study.

The door shut with a bang.

It shut out the last of my hope.

I wiped my tears and started packing.

There wasn't much to pack, really.

I came with one suitcase. I'd leave with one too.