"She needs a receipt for a six-hundred-and-eighty-dollar meal fee? She must be out of her mind broke."

"No way. I know that family. Her husband's supposedly amazing to her. Twenty thousand a month in household money, every single month without fail."

"Then why is she being so cheap? Don't tell me she's blowing all twenty grand on herself."

Under the weight of those stares, I sent the receipt I'd begged for to Irvin and got back six hundred and eighty dollars.

Once the fee was paid, I couldn't bear to stand there a second longer. I turned and left without looking back.

On the way home, I was scrolling through Instagram when I saw Loretta's latest post.

"So grateful to my son for these supplements! I've been dreaming about these for ages!"

I recognized the brand in the photo. A single box cost three thousand dollars, and Irvin had bought his mother five of them in one go.

My grip tightened around my phone. I stared at the screen until my eyes burned.

After I got home and put Tommy to sleep, I finally let myself open Loretta's post again.

It wasn't just the supplements Irvin had bought her. There were also screenshots of transfers he'd made to Loretta and to Susan.

I stared at that post for a long time. And then, out of nowhere, the memory hit me. Standing at the preschool gate, practically groveling, begging Irvin for six hundred and eighty dollars.

Six hundred and eighty dollars for a meal fee, and he'd dragged his feet and made excuses. But three-thousand-dollar supplements for his mother? He hadn't even blinked.

My chest felt tight. Almost without thinking, I opened my chat history with Irvin.

I scrolled up. The screen was packed with photos of receipts, one after another after another.

"Apples, $36. Approved."

"Kids' toothpaste, $22. Approved."

"Soy sauce, $9.80. No receipt. Denied."

None of the amounts were large.

But for every single one, I had to pay out of pocket first, log it, explain it, and then wait on pins and needles for his verdict. Approved or denied.

I stared at those photos, my fingers trembling, and tapped on the transfer records in Loretta's post.

The next second, I went completely still.

"Transfer to Mom: $15,000."

"Transfer to Susan: $10,000."

My mind went blank.

So not everything required a receipt. Irvin wasn't incapable of spending money, and he wasn't stingy.

He just couldn't bring himself to spend it on me and our son.

I stared at my phone, a slow sting building behind my eyes.

Right then, my phone buzzed. A voice message from my mom.

I tapped it open. Her voice came through, thin and strained.

"Gracie, I'm fine. My stomach's just acting up a little. I took a couple of painkillers. It'll pass. Don't worry about me. Just take care of Tommy."

Her forced cheerfulness made my chest clench.

Mom's stomach problems were nothing new. They'd been flaring up on and off for years. At their worst, she'd be drenched in cold sweat in the middle of the night, doubled over, unable to straighten her back.

I'd tried to get her to go to the hospital for a proper checkup, but she always refused.

The only reason she'd even texted me tonight was because the last time she'd had an episode, I'd pressured her into going.

I called her immediately.

"Mom, you didn't go to the hospital again, did you?"

Two seconds of silence. Then her voice came through, weak.

"What do I need the hospital for? It's the same old thing. Why waste that kind of money?"

"How is it a waste?"

The words rushed out of me.

"You're in this much pain and you still won't go? What if something serious happens? What am I supposed to do then?"

Mom sighed.

"The doctor already said last time. An endoscopy, medication, rest. All of it costs money. You're not exactly flush yourself. I don't want to be a burden."

My throat closed up. For a long time, I couldn't say a word.

After I hung up, I looked down at my phone and checked my balance.

Two hundred and thirty-seven dollars.

A little over a hundred more in my other account.

Combined, it wasn't even enough to cover a decent checkup for her.

I sat on the couch, staring at those numbers for a long time. Finally, I opened my chat with Irvin.

"My mom's stomach problems are acting up again. She's in a lot of pain. I need a thousand dollars to take her to the hospital for an exam."

After I sent the message, I had no confidence he'd agree.

Sure enough, less than a minute later, Irvin replied.

"The household money is for this family. It's not for you to funnel back to your side."

My chest tightened. I clenched my teeth and kept typing.

"Consider it a loan. My mom just needs money to see a doctor. I'll pay you back once I'm earning again."

His reply came almost instantly.

"Once you're earning? And when exactly would that be? You're just a housewife. You're still living off me. Don't start getting ideas."

"Grace, I'm not trying to be harsh, but every time your mom has the slightest ache, you come running to me for money. You think I'm made of it? I've told you before—stop trying to use my money to fill that bottomless pit your family is."

I stared at those lines of text, a dull ache pressing against my chest.

It wasn't as if I'd never had the chance to work. When we got married, Irvin told me he wanted me to stay home as a full-time housewife, to hold down the fort so he could focus on his career.

He told me back then that he'd always take care of me. Now every one of those promises had turned to dust.

Just then, my phone rang again.

It was my mom.

The moment I picked up, I heard her voice trembling, like she was fighting to hold something back.

"Gracie, Mom just threw up again. My stomach's churning something awful, and there's a bitter taste in my mouth."

I shot up from the couch.

"Mom, what's going on with you?"

There was a burst of frantic noise on the other end, and then my aunt's panicked voice cut through.

"Grace, get here now! Your mom just threw up blood!"

By the time I reached the hospital, my mom had already been wheeled into the ER.

The second Patty Whitfield saw me, tears spilled down her face.

"Grace, thank God you're here! Your mom suddenly vomited a huge amount of blood. The doctor said it's gastric bleeding. They need to run tests, so you have to pay right away!"

My head went blank, a single sharp ringing drowning out everything else. It felt like someone had swung a bat straight into my face.

Gastric bleeding. Mom's chronic stomach problems had finally been neglected into something serious.

The billing window was just down the hall. I practically ran to it.

"Hi, how much do I need to put down?"

The nurse behind the glass glanced at the form without looking up.

"Five thousand upfront."

Five thousand dollars.

I fumbled through my bag, my fingertips shaking so badly I could barely grip my phone.

Two hundred and thirty-seven in one account. One hundred and sixty-three in the other. Thirty-seven dollars and eighty cents in my bank account.

All together, it didn't even cover a fraction.

I stared at the numbers on the screen, and the color drained from my face.

The nurse saw me frozen there and frowned.

"Ma'am, there are people waiting behind you. Go get the payment sorted. The patient's waiting on tests."

I opened my mouth, but not a single word came out.

Patty followed me over. When she saw me standing there rigid, the look in her eyes shifted.

"Grace, you didn't bring any money?"

My eyes burned, and I couldn't even lift my head.

It wasn't that I hadn't brought any. I simply didn't have any.

The nurse pressed again.

"Can you pay or not? We can't move forward with the process without it."

In the end, I sent Irvin another message.

"My mom has gastric bleeding. She's in the ER right now. They need five thousand upfront. Transfer it to me. Please hurry."

One second. Two seconds. Ten seconds. Nothing from his end.

I sent another message.

It's real. It's urgent. The doctor is pushing for payment.

Still no reply.

I clenched my teeth and dialed his number. My voice was shaking when I spoke.

"Irvin, my mom is in the hospital with gastric bleeding. They need five thousand dollars upfront. Just transfer it to me. Consider it a loan. You can dock it from the household budget however you want."

"Gastric bleeding?"

He cut me off, impatient.

"Grace, is your family really so desperate for money that they'd make up something like this?"

My head buzzed like a bomb had gone off. My ears rang.

"What did you just say?"

Irvin let out a cold laugh.

"Your mom had a stomachache a minute ago, and now it's gastric bleeding? How convenient. You just asked me for money for an exam, and suddenly she's hospitalized?"

My whole body went cold. Even my teeth were chattering.

"Irvin, I'm not joking! My mom is in the ER right now. The doctor just put in the orders!"

He replied in no particular hurry.

"So where are the orders?"

"What?"

His voice dripped with a mockery I'd never heard before.

"The payment slip. The medical records. The test results. Without those, how am I supposed to know if your mother is actually sick, or if your whole family cooked this up to squeeze money out of me?"

In that instant, a chill shot from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my skull. Every drop of blood in my body ran cold.

I gripped the phone, my hand trembling so badly I could barely hold it.

"Irvin, that's my mother."

"So what? I've told you before. The household money is for this household. It's not for you to pour into the bottomless pit that is your family. Your mom gets sick, and that's my problem?"

I bit down hard on my lip. The taste of blood filled my mouth almost instantly. I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Household money, household money! Have you forgotten that I'm part of this household too? You said you give me twenty thousand a month. I want to spend five thousand to save my mother's life, and I can't even do that?"

"Irvin, don't be so heartless!"

The moment the words left my mouth, a scoff came through the phone.

"Heartless? If you think I'm so heartless, then stop spending my money. A useless woman who can't earn a dime and has to beg for handouts has no right to talk back to me."

"I'll say it one last time. You want money? Show me a receipt first."

He hung up. Just like that.

Every word he'd said buried itself in my chest like a knife.

The nurse walked over again. Her tone had turned impatient.

"Ma'am, are you paying or not? The patient can't wait."

Tears flooded my eyes all at once, but I didn't even have time to wipe them. I held up my phone, snapped a photo of the payment slip, and sent it to Irvin.

Here. I'm sending you the photo right now. Is that good enough? Just transfer the money!

His reply came fast.

A payment slip means nothing. Could be real, could be fake. Unless it's an official receipt, I don't recognize it.

After that, silence. I stared at the screen as it went dark, feeling as though someone had carved a hole straight through my chest.

Aunt Patty stood beside me, her voice trembling with panic.

"Gracie, is it going to work or not? Your mom just threw up blood again. The doctor says they can't wait any longer!"

It was going to work. Of course it was going to work.

I wiped my tears, turned away, and typed my ID number into a loan app.

You won't give me money? Fine. I'll figure it out myself.