He couldn't bear to see me suffer, not even a little. He swore he'd shield me from every storm.
But in the end, I gave up everything to stay home and take care of him, and all I became was the dead weight of a housewife dragging him down.
He promised me shelter from the rain. Three years later, every storm I weathered was one he'd brought to my door.
Bernice lifted her chin, her face full of haughty disdain. “Forget it, Mr. Morton. Your wife is too high and mighty to respect someone like me, someone who actually works for a living. My dignity won't survive this kind of treatment. I'll have my resignation on your desk by morning.”
Sean's expression went cold. Whatever patience he had left was gone.
He pulled out his phone, and the moment I saw the number he was dialing, the hospital where my mother was staying,
I lunged for him. “I'll apologize.”
I bit down so hard the inside of my cheek split open. I swallowed the taste of iron. “I'm sorry, Secretary Summers. I was out of line.”
Bernice let out a soft scoff. “I'm not feeling the sincerity, Mrs. Morton.”
I closed my eyes. My knees hit the floor. “You work so hard for this family. I was ungrateful.”
Bernice smiled, satisfied. She glanced out the window at the rain hammering down in sheets, then gave her order as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Mr. Morton didn't get to finish earlier, so we'll need another two hours of overtime. Run to the shop on the East Side and pick up two boxes of the strawberry ultra-thins he likes.”
The East Side was a forty-five-minute drive each way.
Sean helped me to my feet. Something flickered behind his eyes, something that might have been guilt, but all he said was, “Hurry back.”
Outside, the rain came down like a wall. I stood there, hands shaking, staring at the message Sean had sent.
“Keeping employees happy is good for the company. It's for our future, babe. I knew my wife would understand. I'll have ginger tea waiting when you get home.”
Right below it, a $52 Venmo transfer.
“This is from my personal stash. Bernice doesn't know about it. Love you forever.”
I accepted the transfer and stared at my account balance. Four hundred and ninety thousand dollars.
I wiped my face and walked into the rain.
By the time I got home, the house was empty.
I dragged myself inside, water dripping off every inch of me.
On the dining table sat a bowl of ginger tea, long since gone cold.
I had just picked it up when a push notification lit up my phone. Bernice had posted on social media.
A screenshot of a $520,000 bank transfer. A pair of first-class Swiss vacation packages.
“Opportunity never disappoints those who hustle.”
“Work is my passion. So grateful to my boss for the overtime bonus and performance reward.”
The last photo was taken from behind, at the airport.
Two people in matching outfits, fingers laced together.
The wedding ring I had slipped onto Sean's finger myself,
the one that had made him cry so hard he could barely speak, the one he'd kissed over and over like it was sacred, swearing he'd never take it off as long as he lived,
had been replaced by a matching couple's ring with Bernice.
I laughed softly.
Then, face blank, I carried the bowl of ginger tea to the kitchen.
Tilted my hand, and poured every last drop down the drain.
After my shower, there was one more message from Sean on my phone.
“Babe, an urgent project blew up and I have to fly out tonight to handle it. Take care of yourself. When I'm back we'll go visit your mom together. Love you.”
I turned off my phone. No reply.
That night, I drifted in and out of restless sleep, drowning in dreams.
I dreamed of the year I turned twelve, when Sean crawled out of his stepfather's house half-dead, begging for help.
My father went to save him. He was stabbed six times. He died on the spot.
Sean held me while I sat there, hollow and shattered, his tears soaking into the crook of my neck. “Irene, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
In the early days of his startup, a failed investment left him cornered by creditors with nowhere to turn. My mother postponed her heart surgery and gave him every last dollar of my father's wrongful death settlement.
