hair as proof of dependency.
The previous week, during our mortgage payment, he’d remarked, “Good thing my income is covering everything right now.”
My income.
After my stare, he corrected himself.
“Our income.”
But his first wording revealed what he believed.
Two weeks earlier, reviewing our credit-card statement, he’d joked, “Do you remember what earning money feels like?”
We both smiled.
Later, I cried while folding Ivy’s pajamas.
That had become routine. Grant said something hurtful, and I invented an explanation: stress, exhaustion, work pressure, fear, or adjustment to fatherhood.
I told myself he missed our old life and didn’t intend to hurt me.
I kept softening his words until their meaning nearly disappeared.
So when Grant surveyed the kitchen and asked, “Where would you even go without a salary?” I stopped defending myself.
I didn’t mention my career, personal savings, brokerage account established before we met, or knowledge of
