Stolen Anniversary, Split Check

Serena’s outrage hit harder than the check. “Four hundred and twelve dollars?” she snapped, like the number itself had insulted her reflection. The restaurant’s hum thinned to a hush as forks hovered midair and the kids went still,

sensing something sharp in the air.

For ten years I’d absorbed these moments before they could exist, sliding my card out under the table, swallowing resentment with my water. But three days earlier, staring at the $850 transfer out of our “untouchable” anniversary fund, the last excuse had finally disintegrated. That money was supposed to be our reset after a year of sleeping back-to-back, of apologies that never quite fit. Instead, it had gone down their throats in butter and bourbon.

So when six checks appeared, I let the silence stretch and watched each of them finally meet the price of their own appet… Continues…