His Wife's Doctoral Reckoning

My hand trembled as I opened it.

Every word on the screen was a dagger to my heart.

[February 5. Meeting Phoebe was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. Unlike Willow, who reeks of cheap grease. The smell makes me sick.]

[March 10. Phoebe had terrible morning sickness today. The bacon smell on Willow's clothes meant she couldn't eat a bite. Pregnancy is so hard on her.]

[April 2. The research grant came in. Didn't tell Willow. Bought Phoebe those diamond earrings she wanted.]

[My beloved Phoebe.]

So, the woman had a name.

Phoebe Montgomery. The very same “eager underclassman” he’d so often mentioned.

A hidden folder in his cloud drive was filled with screenshots of electronic receipts. Each one was more chilling than the last.

Designer crib — $8,000.

Luxury postpartum care service — $15,000.

Down payment for a luxury condo in Redwood Hills — $200,000.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

The day he paid that down payment—

Was the day of my second miscarriage.

That day, he told me he couldn’t afford to send me to a hospital for the D&C I needed because he had to pay an “emergency treatment fee.” Instead, he bought me painkillers from a 7-Eleven. He had put on such a show of remorse, promising he would make it up to me and give me a better life after he graduated.

I suppose his better life had indeed arrived.

It just didn't include me.

A venomous rage began to boil in my veins.

I had pinched every penny, wearing threadbare clothes while giving him the best of everything.

And he was disgusted by the honest smell of my work, taking every sacrifice for granted.

The money I earned, leaving before dawn and returning after midnight?

He had used it to build a love nest with another woman.

Four years.

I had raised a monster.

I wouldn't let him get away with this.

I hunched over the screen, saving a screenshot of every single receipt to my email.

Evidence.

When Idris came home, he was practically glowing.

He held up a cheap supermarket cupcake. “Got it on sale. To celebrate.”

I took it without a word.

He started rambling, a sure sign of guilt.

“The ceremony was so boring. The president's speech went on forever, I almost fell asleep. It's a good thing you didn't come—you would have been miserable.”

My gaze fell on the 99-cent price tag.