One time, I worked overtime and came home late, so I didn’t cook.
When I walked into the kitchen, Evan was already sitting at the dining table with a takeout spread out in front of him.
I pulled out a chair, sat down, and reached for the chopsticks.
He pressed down on my hand.
“This takeout costs $35. If you want to eat, transfer me seventeen point five, Grace,” he said calmly.
My stomach twisted.
“Evan, I’m really tired today,” I murmured.
“I know. That’s why you can choose not to eat and go rest instead,” he said, like he was just stating a simple fact, nothing more.
I swallowed my frustration, stood up, and went back to the bedroom.
That night, I suddenly came down with acute gastroenteritis. I was vomiting and having diarrhea, over and over.
Clutching the wall for support, I struggled out of the room.
“Evan, take me to the hospital. I feel awful…” I gasped.
He lifted his head from the computer and glanced at me. “Is it that serious? Do you want to drink some hot water first?”
I replied weakly, “It’s really bad. It hurts so much I can’t stand.”
Only then did he get up and steady me.
“Alright, I’ll take you,” he said at last.
On the way to the hospital, I curled up in the passenger seat, the pain making it hard to breathe.
He drove while talking, as if this were just another spreadsheet to walk through.
“I checked. Night-time emergency registration is $50. Twice as much as during the day. When we get the medical bills and test fees later, we’ll keep track and split them evenly when we get home.”
I kept my eyes closed, too weak to answer.
...
At the hospital, the doctor prescribed some medication and told me to go pay and then get an IV drip.
So I headed over to the payment counter and got in line, with Evan standing behind me, scrolling on his phone like this was just another errand.
When it was finally my turn, the cashier glanced at the screen and said, “That’ll be seven hundred eighty dollars.”
I took out my phone, ready to pay, when Evan suddenly patted my shoulder.
“Wait a second,” he said.
He leaned past me toward the cashier and asked, very politely, “Hello, can we pay separately?”
The cashier froze, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Sorry, sir… what?”
“I mean, she pays her share, and I pay mine,” he explained patiently, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.
“Aren’t you two married?” the cashier asked, bewildered, looking between us.
Evan nodded and replied flatly, “Yes, but we’re a split-everything couple. She should pay three hundred ninety, and I’ll pay $390.”
People in line behind us all turned to stare.
The cashier frowned, clearly annoyed now. “Sir, we don’t have that kind of payment method. It has to be paid in one transaction.”
Evan’s brows knit together, like this was some tragic complication. “Then what should we do?” he said. “This doesn’t comply with our agreement.”
All those eyes shifted to me. My face burned.
I clenched my teeth and said to the cashier, “I’ll pay. I’ll pay the full amount.”
After paying, I grabbed the receipt and just wanted to get away from there as fast as possible.
Evan followed behind me.
“Don’t be mad. It’s not that I’m unwilling to spend money,” he said. “It’s just that rules are rules. We agreed on this from the start. The extra $390 you paid, I’ll transfer it back to you.”
Later, in the infusion room, I sat in the chair as the cold IV fluid seeped into my veins, spreading a chill through my whole body.
Evan sat beside me and took out his phone again.
“By the way, the cab fare just now was $28. I’ll cover the gas, so you transfer me $14. And I came with you to the hospital and lost two hours of work. My hourly rate is $200, so that’s $400 for those two hours. That’s my personal time cost. Shouldn’t you be responsible for half of that, too?”
I jerked my head up to look at him.
His expression was perfectly serious, not at all like he was joking.
“Evan," I asked quietly, “do you actually think that’s reasonable?”
In a matter-of-fact tone, he replied, “Of course it’s reasonable. My time is a cost, too. If we’re going 50/50, then we need to calculate everything clearly.”
I didn’t respond; I simply turned away and looked out at the night beyond the window.
...
The next day, I received his transfer.
Not a cent more, not a cent less.
Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant.
When I showed the pregnancy test stick to Evan, he just stared at it in silence for a long time.
