He Bought Her a Car, I Ruined Him

"He doesn't have money to burn." I quickly bent down and picked up the bottle of water I had dropped. "Your husband sounds thoughtful. He must treat you really well." I straightened as she pulled a car key from her designer purse. "He does. He secretly spent ages at the dealership arranging this second-anniversary surprise for me." She spoke brightly, her every word carrying the easy confidence of someone used to being indulged. "He said a woman looks classy behind the wheel of a car like this. He even chose the interior to suit my taste." I clenched the cheap bottle of water until my knuckles turned white. The previous afternoon, despite a fever of 102°F, I had transferred the last 300,000 dollars from the wedding fund account my parents had set up for me into Grant's account. Grant had claimed his company was negotiating a major deal and needed an Audi to impress the client. He told me to send him the money and promised to handle the paperwork himself. The Audi had never been for a business deal. It was Grant's second-anniversary gift to another woman. "I barely know how to drive," the woman said as she tore open the pack of gum. "But he insisted on buying it. He said it wouldn't matter even if I wrecked it because he could afford to take care of me." She leaned against the shelf, clearly enjoying the conversation. "Don't let his plain clothes fool you. He's incredibly generous with me. He gives me 20,000 dollars in spending money every month, and I can't even use it all. Next week, he's taking me to Bellshore and chartering a yacht for us." My stomach twisted. Grant gave her 20,000 dollars a month and was taking her on a yacht trip to Bellshore. I looked down at my old coat, faded from countless washes. Even the paint on the zipper pull had begun to chip. The previous week, after paying the utility bills, I hadn't had enough money left for groceries. I messaged Grant on w******p and asked him to send me 500 dollars to tide us over. He hadn't answered until that night. Grant: You sit around at home all day, so how do you burn through money this fast? I work myself to death for every cent. Can't you be more considerate and spend less? I don't have 500 dollars. I'll send you 200 dollars. Make it work. I had used the 200 dollars to buy his favorite ribs and barely touched the vegetables myself. "Why did you go quiet?" She treated strangers like old friends and slipped her arm through mine. "Does your husband ever buy you expensive gifts? Don't tell me he won't even buy you a decent purse." I swallowed hard, but my throat was so dry it hurt. My nails dug into my palm, and the sharp sting steadied my voice. "He never buys me things like that. He pinches pennies over everything, even gas. He's broke." She sighed in sympathy, released my arm, and pulled a beautifully packaged box of imported chocolates from her shopping bag. Without hesitation, she pressed it into my hands. "Here. They're really sweet. You should have them." She looked genuinely concerned, too naive to realize what she was saying. "Don't make yourself miserable for a man. Marriage doesn't mean settling for someone who won't spend a dime on you." I lowered my eyes to the expensive chocolates. Gold lettering gleamed beneath the convenience store's harsh white lights. "Thank you," I said softly. I looked past her shoulder and through the window. Outside, Grant smiled down at his phone, his expression warm and tender. He hadn't looked at me that way in years.