I'd given everything I had. I genuinely couldn't keep going anymore. All I wanted was for him, as a husband, a father, a son, to shoulder even a fraction of his responsibility.
How did that become evidence that I wasn't trying hard enough? That I was looking for an excuse to slack off?
I was about to speak when my in-laws' bedroom door opened.
They'd clearly heard every word between me and Ervin. The moment Frances stepped out, she fixed me with that heavy, measured tone of hers:
“Delilah, this really is your fault.”
“My son is a famous philanthropist. Forget being proud of him — you're actually trying to get your hands on his money?”
A wave of suffocating frustration rose in my chest, but I kept my voice steady:
“Mom, Ervin is part of this family too. I'm only asking him to think about us a little while he donates. How is that scheming for his money?”
“And it's not even for me.”
“Dad's heart condition requires long-term medication. One box of that imported drug costs over six hundred dollars. Your insulin's run out too. If there's no money, I can't even afford your prescriptions.”
Frances waved me off, irritation cutting through whatever patience she'd pretended to have:
“Enough, enough. We know our own bodies better than you do.”
“You're using us as an excuse because you're too soft to handle a little hardship, aren't you?”
Wayne let out a cold scoff, not bothering to hide his contempt:
“Exactly. I've never seen anyone as selfish as you.”
“The only reason Ervin became a household name in charity is because he donates every last cent of his paycheck. You want him to hold some back for household expenses? You're trying to destroy his reputation.”
“It took him years to earn the respect he has. You're his wife. If you can't follow his example, fine — but dragging him down over a little money?”
The three of them, perfectly in sync, tearing into me like I was the villain in this family.
Watching them stand there like that, it was like someone had cracked me over the head. I was suddenly, brutally awake.
All these years, Ervin had spent every waking hour on his donations. The second he got off work, it was another charity gala, another donation event.
And me — on top of running myself ragged at my job, I carved out whatever time I could to take his parents to the hospital. Registration, checkups, prescriptions. All of it.
Half the time I was using my lunch break to shuttle them between departments.
And every single time, Frances would take my hand and say:
“Delilah, Ervin only has eyes for his charity work. This family would fall apart without you.”
“Without you, these two old bones of ours wouldn't know what to do.”
Wayne's face would soften with gratitude:
“Good girl. You've sacrificed so much for this family. If Ervin ever wrongs you, you come to us. We'll be the first ones to set him straight.”
Even Ervin used to say it:
“Babe, marrying someone as caring and thoughtful as you is the greatest luck of my life.”
“I promise — someday I'll make it up to you for all these years.”
They sounded so sincere.
And I believed every word.
So for all those years, I gritted my teeth and carried it alone, no matter how exhausted, no matter how stretched thin.
Because I thought they truly understood me. That they were genuinely grateful. That they actually needed my help.
I told myself that once Ervin's charity work stabilized, he'd turn around and look at this family. He'd share the weight. He'd keep his promise and never let me suffer.
But today I finally saw it for what it was.
I was wrong.
Every grateful word, every tender promise — from the very beginning, all of it was just pretty talk designed to keep me in line.
