“We’ve been married six years.”
He gave a shrug.
“Don’t start drama.”
His younger sister hid a smug smile behind her wineglass.
In that instant, something inside me became completely still.
For years, I had cleaned up Mark’s problems because I believed that was part of being married.
When his consulting company collapsed, I covered the mortgage.
When Patricia needed her roof replaced, I quietly lent her $18,000.
When Mark claimed his credit had suffered a temporary setback, I financed his new SUV under my name.
He enjoyed telling everyone he was “the provider.”
I never bothered correcting him.
That night, I finally recognized the difference between generosity and willingly allowing people to take advantage of me.
I smiled.
“Okay.”
Mark blinked. “Okay?”
“Your mother’s house. Her rules.”
Patricia almost seemed disappointed that I hadn’t broken down in tears.
I turned, headed back to my car, and drove home.
Twenty minutes later, a text from Mark appeared.
