He Called Police Over $5k Fees, I Left My Uncaring Spouse

Chapter 3

The next afternoon, I got a call from an unknown number. "Vera, I'm outside your building."

It was Ethan. I was silent for a few seconds, then I went downstairs. He stood at the gate of the complex, holding a bag of fruit. There were dark circles under his eyes. When he saw me, his first words weren't "Are you okay?" They were: "Are you over it yet?"

I didn't answer. He took a step closer. "Vera, come home. Calling the police was impulsive. I know I was wrong."

I looked at him. "What exactly did you do wrong?"

He faltered. "I shouldn't have called the police."

"And?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

I said to him. "You think that because I have no income, I don't have the right to decide how money is spent. You think I should ask your permission before taking five thousand dollars for our child's checkup. You think that because you're the one earning, the family's money is yours."

His face slowly darkened. "Vera, that's not what I meant."

I held his gaze. "Then what did you mean? When the hospital was pressing for the deposit, I called you three times. The first time, no one answered. The second time, you said you were in a meeting. The third time, you asked me, 'Is this checkup really necessary?' Now tell me, what exactly did you mean?"

People nearby had started to stop and watch. Someone raised a phone. A few murmured, "What's going on?"

Ethan didn't answer right away. He looked down, hesitating. But the next second, his voice suddenly rose. "Vera, I know I was wrong!"

It was loud. More people gathered. And then, in front of everyone, he dropped to his knees.

The sound of his knees hitting the ground echoed through the gate. The entire street went quiet.

His eyes red, he looked up at me. "Calling the police was impulsive. You can hit me, curse me—whatever you want. But our child can't grow up without a father."

Whispers broke out around us.

"He's on his knees."

"Every couple argues."

"For the baby's sake, just go back."

An older woman walked up to me. "Honey, he's done all this. What else is there to hold onto?"

I didn't speak. I just watched Ethan.

From the moment he'd knelt down, every word he said was designed to show everyone else that he'd apologized. But not one of them answered what I'd asked.

I asked him why he wouldn't pay for the checkup. He didn't answer. I asked him why he called the police. He didn't answer. I asked him why he thought I had no right to the family's money. He still didn't answer.

All he did was kneel there. Making everyone believe I was the one in the wrong.

I laughed. "Ethan, you didn't come here to answer me. You came here to put on a show."

His expression flickered for just a second. Then he was back to playing the victim. "Vera, I just want to take you home."

I nodded. "Too bad. I don't have a home anymore." I turned and walked away.

His voice called after me. "Vera!"

I never looked back. At the gate, my phone buzzed. A friend sent me a message.

Friend: Vera, is this you?

I opened it. It was a video—just posted.

The headline read: "Pregnant Wife Walks Away as Husband Kneels in the Street, Begging Her to Come Home."

The video was one minute long. From the moment Ethan knelt down, to the moment I walked away.

In that video, none of my questions were there. No mention of the police call. No mention of what he'd said: "People without income should follow the rules."

Just a man on his knees. And a cold-hearted wife walking away.

Thousands of comments already.

A: [A man on his knees—what more do you want?]

B: [She won't even forgive him for the baby?]

C: [That woman is ruthless.]

I stared at the screen. Then I frowned. There had been a lot of people watching. But this footage was steady. Not a single shake. A low angle. Close. Not the kind of phone footage you'd get from a random bystander. More like... something set up in advance.

I paused the video. Zoomed in, frame by frame. And there it was. Next to Ethan's knee was a black phone pointed right at us. The red recording light was still on.

I laughed. So that was it. He hadn't knelt down to beg me to come back. He'd knelt down to film evidence that would make everyone sympathize with him.

Just then, my feed refreshed. Ethan had just posted a new update. A photo of his own back, kneeling on the ground. The caption read: "For this family, I'm willing to put my dignity aside."

I finally understood. From the moment he'd walked into the complex, this had all been planned.

At 10:00 AM, his account posted a livestream announcement: Tonight at 8:30, I want to set the record straight.

I stared at that page, and one thing finally clicked.

Ethan wasn't trying to save our marriage. He just couldn't accept that the woman who used to stand behind him no longer would. He wasn't afraid of losing me. He was afraid of losing the image of the perfect husband.

I turned off my phone and answered no one. Then I opened my laptop and started organizing everything.

Property payment records. The debts I'd covered when his business failed. Project revision logs. And all those words he'd said,"I'll take care of you."

"Let me hold the money."

"Don't worry about it."

Once, these had been memories of our marriage. Now, they were evidence.

I worked until dawn. Then I sent one message. Vera: Claire, I want to come back to work.