The Scumbag's AA Bill

After getting the money, Nigel disappeared completely.

It wasn't until the fifth day, after the doctor repeatedly urged him to come and handle the discharge paperwork, that he reluctantly showed up at the hospital.

Nigel scowled at the various items scattered around the room.

"I don't get why you made me come. Gas isn't free, you know. Couldn't you just call a cab if you wanted to go home?"

Ignoring his complaints, I prepared to leave.

With Nigel's begrudging assistance, I managed to take the baby home.

Upon entering the apartment, I was almost knocked out by the sight of the mountainous garbage.

The living room was strewn with Nigel's leftover takeout containers and instant noodle cups. His dirty clothes were everywhere on the couch.

The bathroom wastebasket overflowed with used tissues, taking up half the bathroom space.

Suppressing my anger, I asked, "Where's your mother? Wasn't she supposed to help take care of me during my recovering?"

Mentioning his mother immediately set Nigel off. He threw what he was holding onto the floor and turned to me with extreme annoyance.

"Julia, you're so high-maintenance. It's just childbirth, not some major illness. You seriously expect my mom to wait on you hand and foot? What a joke."

Nigel's words made me realize the importance of education.

Only someone as ignorant as him could say something so foolish.

My abdomen had seven layers of stitches, and the bleeding had just stopped. I could barely move around. Yet, he called me high-maintenance.

Seeing Nigel sprawled on the couch, I let out a cold snort.

For now, having just given birth and feeling weak, I decided not to argue with him.

If Susan Craigie didn't want to help, I wouldn't force it.

Holding back my grievances, I spoke again, "Honey, if your mom isn't coming, can we hire a maternity matron or go to a postpartum care center? You know, my incision hasn't healed yet, and I can't do heavy work. Otherwise, I might suffer long-term effects."

The mention of spending money made Nigel flip out. He jumped up from the couch and screamed at me.

"Julia Hornby, are you never satisfied? My mom had to get up and work the day after giving birth, and she was fine. It's just cooking and cleaning, no heavy lifting. Hiring a nurse or going to a care center costs money. Do you have any idea how hard it is to earn money?"

I wanted to argue, but Nigel cut me off.

Grabbing his coat, he stood by the door and warned me sternly. "Julia, the child is born. If you can raise it, fine. If not, get out. Don't try to pull any tricks. I won't give you another penny."

With that, he stormed out, leaving me and the baby in the chaotic house.

It wasn't until nightfall that Nigel swaggered back home.

Seeing me, he smirked sarcastically. "Oh, so you're done pretending? Nobody's home, and yet you managed to cook a whole meal. I told you, you're just spoiled. You're a mother now. Bear with it and stop relying on others."

Seeing his smug face, I didn't get angry. I just sat at the dining table and focused on eating.

When Nigel saw I wasn't reacting, he shut up, served himself a plate, and started eating voraciously.

Suddenly, he picked up a piece of chicken and examined it closely. "This chicken tastes weird. Is it spoiled?"

I glanced at him and pushed the plate of chicken towards him. "It's chicken with pepper I bought specially. My incision hasn't healed, so I can't eat spicy food. You can have it all."

Reassured by my explanation, Nigel ate the chicken enthusiastically. Soon, he devoured half of it.

Satisfied, he pushed his plate away and went to his room. I tidied up briefly and went to soothe the baby.

In the middle of the night, while I was feeding the baby, I heard Nigel's continuous groans of pain coming from the master bedroom.

Following the sound, I found Nigel writhing on the floor, his forehead covered in large beads of sweat.

I returned to my room and called for an ambulance.

Watching him being carried away, looking frail, I couldn't help but smile.

Some money might be earned, but there was always the risk of not living long enough to spend it.