1 After we married, my wife took my paycheck, claiming it was to save for a house. On my phone, she activated a “Family Link” allowance. She called it my spending money, insisting she covered all household expenses. But the $1,500 monthly limit barely covered my living and commuting costs. By month-end, I often found myself struggling to afford a meal. Every single purchase triggered her interrogation: “What did you buy now? You’re over your limit today. Don’t come crying to me when you’re broke by month-end.” “You took a cab to work today? Do you really think you’re a millionaire?” I once believed Victoria’s obsessive saving was for our future. Then, I got a promotion and a raise. To celebrate, I treated my colleagues to bubble tea. She logged into the delivery app and requested a full refund, no return. The furious merchant, to vent his rage, threw the prepared drinks in my face, then publicly cursed and hit me. As I cried and paid for the damage, I found my Family Link allowance completely shut off. Moments later, my wife’s junior assistant posted a picture on social media, cradling a luxury handbag, with the caption: [One moment in the cart, the next in my arms! My boss-lady spoils me rotten!] It was at that exact moment I understood: where the money went, that’s where the love truly lay. Flushed with the news of my promotion and raise, I excitedly treated my colleagues to bubble tea. I’d barely finished paying with my Family Link allowance, still on the app, when a voice call from my wife popped up. The next second, Victoria’s icy voice cut through: “$307 for bubble tea? Aaron Caldwell, have you lost your mind? Refund it, now!” Her voice, sharp and cold, echoed from the receiver, filling the office. My colleagues, who’d just placed their orders, shifted uncomfortably, their gazes turning to me. My face burned crimson. I stammered, trying to explain. “No, babe, it’s not like that. I got a raise, and my colleagues helped me out a lot, so I just wanted to treat everyone…” She scoffed, a venomous sound. “Three hundred bucks for bubble tea today, what, a thousand for dinner tomorrow? Do you have any idea how much you make? Keep splurging like this, are we ever buying a house? Paying rent? How are you going to last the next two weeks? You’re just an employee, don’t you dare act like a big shot! Refund it, now!” Her impatient words hammered at my skull, dazing me. The joy I’d felt, eager to share, was instantly doused, leaving me cold to the bone. The office fell silent. I sat hunched at my desk, unable to lift my head, avoiding the pity in my colleagues’ eyes. My own eyes burned, dry and stinging. I couldn't tell if it was disappointment or sheer helplessness. I could only plead, my voice raw: “It’s already paid for, please, just this once? The merchant already started making them; I can’t refund it. I only ordered the cheapest lemonades. Please, don’t make a scene in front of my colleagues, okay?” Her mocking chuckle filtered through the phone. “You can’t refund it? I’ll do it for you.” Then she hung up. An unsettling dread swelled in my chest, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm. I was still awkwardly trying to explain to my colleagues when a man with a dark scowl suddenly barged through the office entrance. He carried a dozen or so prepared bubble teas, his gaze zeroing in on me with deadly precision. 2 I pushed myself up, taking a hesitant step towards him. The next second, scalding bubble tea, laced with furious curses, splattered all over me. “Only a partial refund, huh? You’re threatening me? You work in a fancy office building but you can’t even pay for your own damn bubble tea? If you can afford it, drink it. If not, go to hell!” Cup after cup, the hot, sticky liquid drenched me, stinging my face and skin. My colleagues made a move to intervene, but the merchant’s next words nailed them to their spots: “You scam me out of perfectly good bubble tea? This isn’t over!” The sheer, burning humiliation made me tremble. I fumbled for my phone, my voice shaking as I tried to call for help. “I’m calling the police! This is defamation…” As I tapped open the delivery app, I saw a notification: my account had been logged in from another location. I logged back in, only to find Victoria’s chat history with the merchant, ending with her last message: “If you don’t refund, I’ll report you to the consumer protection agency! Why can’t I refund bubble tea I haven’t even drunk? Try shutting down your business if you dare!” The order page blared “Partial Refund Successful.” The merchant let out a cold, chilling laugh. He landed a brutal punch square on my face, roaring, “Call the cops! I’ve got nothing to lose, buddy! Even if my shop closes today, I’ll make you pay!” The blow sent me sprawling to the floor, my mouth instantly filling with the coppery taste of blood, my ears ringing violently. All eyes in the office were on me. A deathly silence stretched, then whispers erupted. “Freeloading on bubble tea? That’s so embarrassing…” “I swear, I knew Aaron was cheap, but I never thought a grown man could have such terrible character!” “Someone like that deserves a promotion and a raise? What a joke! He’s a total embarrassment to the company!” The swirling accusations made me feel naked, every contemptuous word piercing me. I swallowed the blood in my mouth, my face pale, and apologized to the merchant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know about the partial refund. I’ll transfer you the money for the bubble tea.” “I’m truly sorry.” The merchant gave me a cold once-over, then pulled out his payment QR code. My face was tight with shame as I scanned it. But after several attempts at inputting my password, the screen kept flashing “Insufficient Balance.” Just then, a message from Victoria popped up. “Did the bubble tea taste good? (smile smile)” My Family Link allowance showed zero. I stood frozen, staring at the “payment failed” screen, my heart sinking into a freezing abyss. “What? No money to pay? Damn it, if you can’t pay, just die!” “Used to freeloading, are you? Think I’m running a charity?” Amidst the merchant’s impatient curses, I numbly opened a loan app, borrowed four hundred dollars, and transferred it to him. He received the money, spat on me, and then stalked off, muttering insults. Looking at the ninety dollars left in my balance, I suddenly felt utterly pointless. I don’t know how I walked back to my desk. My mind was blank, countless gazes burning into me. Each one stung like a needle. Victoria sent another message: “Happy about your promotion? Still celebrating?” For the first time, I didn't reply. I just sat there, my expression empty. My suit shirt was soaked through with bubble tea, clinging to my skin, cold and sticky. 3 The feeling was nauseating, disgusting. After an eternity, I pushed myself up and stumbled to the restroom, desperate to wash the sticky, milky residue from my skin. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was Noah, Victoria’s junior assistant, who had just posted on social media. The photo showed him lounging casually in a brand-new sports car, a luxury watch glinting on his wrist, a triumphant grin on his face. “One second at the dealership, the next it’s mine. Mwah! My boss-lady spoils me rotten!” The photo was cleverly taken, subtly revealing a flash of lingerie in the backseat… the very lingerie I’d helped Victoria pick out that morning. I stood frozen, my gaze locked on that photograph. My breath caught in my throat, a panicked flutter in my chest. My hand trembled, my finger accidentally brushing the screen, "liking" Noah’s post. Before I could even react, Victoria’s call came through, her voice heavy with accusation: “Aaron Caldwell, are you never going to stop? Is it really that interesting to constantly invade my privacy? You want to see so badly? Fine! Come over now, I’ll give you an eyeful!” I stood, ashen-faced, in the corner. A thousand tiny ants of pain gnawed at my heart, suffocating me. Soon, the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth again. The sheer absurdity and unbelievable nature of it all left me numb, my head throbbing with a dull ache. Five years of marriage, in this moment, felt like a cruel, elaborate joke. My throat burned. I swallowed the blood, my voice hoarse. “Victoria, what am I to you, really?” The person on the other end paused, her breathing rasping into the receiver. After a long silence, she, uncharacteristically, offered an explanation: “I just refunded a couple of bubble teas. Do you really need to be so dramatic, like your life is ending? Fine, I’ve restored your allowance. Just stop bothering me with these petty issues!” Petty issues? So, in Victoria’s eyes, my humiliation and ridicule by colleagues was a petty issue. Being assaulted and doused with bubble tea by a furious merchant was also a petty issue. Was only Noah’s well-being considered important? Hearing her dismissive placation, I squeezed my eyes shut, suppressing every emotion. Then I asked her: “Victoria, I was so humiliated at work today. I want to resign and find a new job. Is that okay?” Victoria’s voice instantly shot up, her tone laced with unbearable irritation as she accused me: “Are you threatening me? Is it because I didn’t let you spend money however you pleased? Aaron Caldwell, have I spoiled you too much? Can’t you think about our future?” I blinked, my dry, aching eyes burning. The irony was suffocating. How could she so righteously accuse me of squandering money, yet without a flicker of hesitation, spend hundreds of thousands on a luxury car for Noah? Was it because I never fought, never demanded, simply devoted myself to her for five years? The glowing screen of my phone, displaying that pathetic $1,500 Family Link allowance, felt like a series of stinging slaps across my face. Mocking. Absurd. I had been working overtime for a solid week, so utterly exhausted that my vision blurred, as if I might collapse at any second. Pain pulsed in my chest. I asked her: “Did you ever truly consider our future? Victoria, in your eyes, am I truly that stupid?” Perhaps the despair in my voice was too obvious, or perhaps my choked sob reached her ears. Victoria paused, took a breath, and, suppressing her impatience, spoke to me: 4 “What nonsense are you talking about? I’m just worried about money, darling. Don’t overthink it. How about I take you out for dinner when I get back from overtime, okay?” “Alright, I’m hanging up. You reflect on what happened today.” I remained silent on my end of the call. Victoria coughed, then cooed softly. “Honey, if you feel tired, just hold on for a few more years, then you won’t have to work. I’ll take care of you after that, okay? Be good.” She hung up abruptly. Just before the call disconnected, Noah’s mocking laugh filtered through: “What are you going to support him with? That fifteen-hundred-dollar monthly allowance? Even a dog costs more than he does!” His voice dripped with scorn. “I’m dying laughing! Is Aaron that idiot, weeping tears of gratitude right now? Sister, isn’t this what you call playing good cop, bad cop? You’ve got him so obedient and docile!” His grating laughter slammed into my heart, a dull, aching thud. I squatted on the floor, my throat tight with pain. The agony made me curl into a tight ball, my hands pressed hard against my chest, the only way to alleviate the bone-deep torment. I had never imagined that the person who swore to love me forever, to stay by my side always, would unleash such a calculated, deadly blow. This blade, she had plunged it with precision and cruelty, leaving me barely an inch of breathing room. It was only at this moment that I finally understood where Noah’s naked aggression and animosity towards me had truly stemmed from. I wanted to cry, but my eyes were bone-dry, not a single tear left to shed. I sat there all night, numb and aching. Victoria didn’t contact me. She simply didn’t care if I stayed out all night. She never once bothered to ask about my overtime or work dinners. Before, I thought it was trust. Now, I understood: it was indifference. On my phone, a picture message from Noah: a provocative bedroom shot. He’d captioned it: “The person you stayed up all night thinking about? I was with her all night long.” He added another jab: “Aaron Caldwell, are you getting old? Not performing anymore?” If this had been before today, seeing these photos, I might have lost my mind. I would have stormed to Victoria’s office, screaming and fighting. But now, as I pulled at the corners of my lips, my heart was eerily calm, not a ripple. No. I don’t want Victoria anymore. This marriage, which had consumed me and left me broken, I don’t want it either. First thing in the morning, I called in sick to work and went to the bank to report my payroll card lost and request a new one. Even though there wasn’t a single cent left in it, I clutched the card tightly in my palm until a thin film of sweat formed. From this day forward, I would never again hand my destiny so easily to anyone. After printing out the divorce papers, I took a cab to Victoria’s office. Bad luck would have it, I ran into Noah just as I arrived. Victoria must have told him about yesterday’s events, because the moment he saw me, he walked over, feigning apology. “Aaron, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I was just messing around on my sister’s phone and accidentally refunded your bubble tea.” He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “I heard you two argued? Seriously, you’re a grown man, fighting with her over a few bucks? You should have just appeased her.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “But don’t worry, I really comforted her yesterday. I’ll convince her to come home.” Noah gave me a triumphant grin, his eyes openly mocking. It was at this moment I finally realized: my feelings for Victoria had long been eroded by her relentless, daily emotional manipulation. The provocation from the man in front of me didn’t even stir a flicker of anger within me. All I wanted was to quickly dissolve this misguided marriage. 5 I looked at Noah and smiled. “Victoria and I are still legally married. Spouses argue; it’s perfectly normal. Why would outsiders need to mediate?” I paused, letting my words sink in. “As for you, so young, yet content to be a homewrecker… that must be hard on your conscience, isn’t it?” My voice sharpened. “Do you truly believe Victoria will support you for life? Stop dreaming. Boys like you, she just plays with.” Noah’s face cycled through shades of dark fury. He glared at me, the dark circles under his eyes stubbornly visible even through heavy concealer. He seemed to have an idea, suddenly leaning in, reaching to grab my arm. His voice dropped to a whisper, audible only to us. “Aaron Caldwell, you don’t know, do you? Victoria… she’s pregnant.” He paused, then added, “It’s mine.” I froze. Victoria’s recent unusual behavior suddenly clicked into place. A wave of nausea surged in my stomach, and I couldn't stop myself from dry-heaving. I instinctively tried to pull away from Noah’s grasp, but in my haste, my arm swung out and accidentally hit his face. Noah’s eyes instantly welled with tears. He snatched up his bag and swung it at me like a madman, shrieking, “Aaron Caldwell, I already apologized! Why are you still hitting me? The unloved one is the homewrecker, you’re the third wheel in this love story! I’m not!” He used all his strength, the blow sending a ringing shockwave through my head. I hadn’t been prepared. He struck me, breaking my skin, and warm blood trickled down my cheek, splattering onto the floor. Watching Noah’s hysterical outburst, I trembled with fury, my hand already raised to strike back. But before I could touch him, someone grabbed my wrist from behind. Victoria suddenly appeared, forcefully stopping my movement, her voice a cold warning: “Aaron Caldwell, try hitting him, I dare you!” Just then, Noah lunged, slamming his fist hard into my stomach. I crashed to the ground, my back hitting a desk, the pain draining the color from my face. Victoria’s gaze swept over me. Seeing the blood on my face, she hesitated, then frowned, turning to Noah. “You hit him?” Noah glared back defiantly, his eyes burning with resentment. “Victoria, he insulted me first, calling me a leech, and then he hit me. When I dodged, my bag accidentally hit him. I didn’t mean to, but if you’re upset, I’m willing to apologize to Aaron!” As he spoke, he made to kneel. At Noah’s willingness to swallow his pride for her, Victoria’s heart softened. She pulled him back behind her, pursed her lips, and softened her voice towards me. “Noah is young and impulsive; he didn’t mean it. What’s the point of coming to the office and making a scene first thing in the morning?” She looked at me, her gaze hardening. “Aaron Caldwell, when did you become so unreasonable?” I lay sprawled on the floor, and then, slowly, a bitter laugh escaped me. I pushed myself up, struggling to my feet. Meeting Victoria’s gaze, I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. SMACK! The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the office, drawing gasps and turning many heads. A clear red imprint quickly bloomed on Victoria’s cheek. Her face cold, her eyes glacial, she glared at me, gritting her teeth as she hissed, “Feel better now? Had your little tantrum? Can you stop acting like a lunatic and embarrassing yourself at the office?!” I pulled at the corner of my lips, meeting her gaze without flinching. Then I threw the divorce papers directly at her face. “Even now, you still think I’m just having a tantrum with you?” My voice was clear, unwavering. “No, Victoria. I’m divorcing you.”
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