Daniel stared at me.
I continued.
“I listened when your mother said wives should never earn significantly more than their husbands because it damages the marriage. I listened when you stopped looking for full-time work because you said you needed time to figure out your next move.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s accurate.”
“I freelance.”
“You do occasional consulting.”
“You always look down on what I do.”
“I paid your quarterly taxes last year because you forgot to set money aside.”
Silence.
Eleanor stared into her coffee.
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“So that’s what this is really about. Money.”
“No.”
I surprised myself with how quickly I answered.
“It’s about reality.”
The refrigerator hummed.
Outside, a garbage truck groaned somewhere down the block.
I had spent years feeling as though our arguments happened inside sealed rooms, isolated from the ordinary world.
But that morning, everything felt strangely normal.
