For ten years I woke before him. Ten years arranging his meetings, his meals, his travel. Ten years pausing my own ambitions “so he could succeed.”
And that evening, as I was placing dinner on the table, he said it casually — like asking for more water.
“Starting next month, we split everything. I’m not supporting someone who doesn’t contribute.”
I froze, serving spoon suspended in midair.
I waited for the punchline.
There wasn’t one.
“Excuse me?” I asked carefully.
