One night I said, “Really, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well. I mean. Yeah. It’s a lot. But I’m here.”

Weeks later, everything was ready.

“Is it in?” he asked.
“Actually, I have something special for you today.”

“A bonus,” I said.

I handed him a white box.
“Open it.”

Inside were divorce papers. Then the photos.

“Divorce papers,” I said. “Not a joke.”

“I can explain,” he said.

“It looks like you’re cheating on your disabled wife with her friend while she pays you to take care of her,” I replied.

He screamed, “After everything I’ve done? After taking care of you, this is what I deserve?”

“You charged me to be my husband,” I said. “You told me, word for word, ‘You’ve earned more than me for years. Now it’s your turn to pay up. I’m not your nurse.’”

He begged.
“I’m sorry… I’ll take care of you for free.”

I pulled away.
“I survived a car crash,” I said. “I survived losing my independence… I will survive this.”

“This,” I added, “is your final paycheck.”

My sister walked in.
“Time to pack.”

“You’re throwing away 10 years over this?” he demanded.

“No,” I said. “You threw it away when you put a price tag on loving me.”

He left.

My sister stayed.