PART 3
Samantha extended her right arm, placing her palm against the doorframe to block the entrance completely. “You are not stepping foot inside this home.”
Zachary’s confident smile instantly froze on his face. “What do you mean I am not coming in? This is my home too.”
“No, Zachary,” she corrected him. “You simply lived here alongside me while I covered the bills. That is entirely different.”
He let out an incredulous laugh and tried to edge his way past her arm. “Look, Samantha, do not start making a public scene in the hallway. My mother is driving me completely insane over at her house. She is constantly nagging me to get a job, turn off the television, and pick up my dirty dishes. It feels like I am stuck back in high school.”
“That sounds terribly difficult for you,” she noted sarcastically.
“On top of that, there is barely any food in her kitchen,” he complained, gesturing wildly with his hands. “She only has canned beans, instant soup, and bread. I cannot possibly survive on that kind of diet.”
Samantha looked down at his stuffed backpack and then back up at his face. “So you did not come back here because you understood how badly you hurt me. You came back strictly because no one else is willing to pamper you over there anymore.”
“I came back here because you are my wife!” he snapped.
“And I worked twelve hour shifts for six straight months to support a husband who presented himself to his mother as a successful businessman using my card,” she replied quietly.
Zachary lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “I told you repeatedly that I was going to pay you back for everything.”
“With what income?”
He remained silent.
“With the mystery investors who do not exist?” she asked. “With the legal business contract that no human being has ever seen? Or with the eight thousand dollars you tricked your own mother into giving you?”
For the very first time, Zachary’s arrogant demeanor completely shattered, leaving him looking hollow. “Aunt Gertrude told you all that garbage, didn’t she? That woman has always been a toxic busybody.”
“Do not attempt to shift the blame onto someone else.”
“It was legitimate startup capital to get my company off the ground,” he insisted defensively.
“And where did that money go, Zachary?”
Zachary pressed his lips together and stared at the floor, offering no answer.
Samantha realized she did not need any more verbal explanations to understand the reality of her marriage. The absolute worst part of the situation was not that his business had failed, because professional failure could happen to anyone trying to build a career. The horrifying truth was that he had turned the two women who loved him most into personal cash registers, using one person’s money to play the big shot in front of the other.
“I feel genuinely sorry for you, Zachary,” she said calmly. “However, I do not feel a single drop of guilt anymore.”
He clenched his jaw tightly. “Are you really going to throw away four whole years of marriage over something this stupid?”
“No, I am simply refusing to waste a fifth year on a parasite.”
She began pulling the heavy wooden door shut, but Zachary shoved his palm against the surface to keep it open. “Samantha!”
“I had all the locks changed by a locksmith yesterday,” she warned him. “If you attempt to force your way inside my apartment, I will immediately dial the police.”
He slowly withdrew his hand from the wood, his eyes dark with resentment. “You are completely out of your mind.”
“Perhaps I am,” she said. “However, the important part is that you are no longer living off my paycheck.”
Samantha shut the door firmly and turned the deadbolt until it clicked into place. She leaned her back against the cool surface for several long seconds, noticing how violently her hands were trembling. She did not feel powerful, nor did she feel like a grand winner in a conflict. She simply felt completely exhausted from carrying the weight of two adults on her shoulders. She had truly loved that man, she had defended his endless setbacks to her closest colleagues, and she had repeatedly believed that marriage meant supporting your partner through every rough patch.
The core issue was that Zachary had confused being supported with being carried through life for free.
Her phone vibrated in her hand with an incoming notification.
It was another text message from Evelyn: “Has Zachary arrived at the apartment yet? Please keep him there with you. I cannot afford to support his lifestyle here on my pension. He consumed my entire weekly grocery supply in less than forty-eight hours.”
Samantha let out a bitter laugh that nearly turned into tears of frustration. She stepped into her bright kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. The shelves were filled with fresh vegetables, Greek yogurt, chicken breasts, artisanal cheeses, and fresh fruits. She took a photo of the organized food and sent it directly to her mother-in-law.
“This is my personal refrigerator,” Samantha typed out. “From this day forward, only people who contribute money and labor get to eat this food. If Zachary ever wants to step foot back inside this apartment, he will first need to pay half of all household expenses, secure a permanent job, and return every single dollar he stole from both of us. Even if he accomplishes all that, it does not mean I will ever take him back.”
Evelyn’s text bubble appeared instantly: “You are acting extremely cold and harsh. A real marriage does not survive by keeping a transaction ledger.”
Samantha replied with a single message: “It is funny how keeping track of expenses only seems to bother people when only one person is paying all the bills.”
The chat went silent for ten solid minutes.
Suddenly, a push notification from her banking app popped up across the top of her screen: Direct Transfer Received: $486.00.
The transaction memo read: Reimbursement for groceries Zachary took.
Samantha stared at the numbers in surprise. A moment later, a final message from Evelyn appeared on her phone: “I am sending you back the full amount for the grocery purchase so you can never claim I took advantage of your kindness. However, you are completely on your own when it comes to dealing with my son.”
Samantha typed a brief final response: “I am actually handling my situation with him perfectly fine: he does not live here anymore.”
