Your Borrowed Life Expires After New Year

At the family dinner over the holidays, Elias Barrett has given all of our relatives and their children thick wads of cash.

When it's my turn, he just frowns at me.

"We've been together for so long. What's the point in going through the motions? You're the one managing the finances, so you can just withdraw what you need from the account."

I merely nod without saying anything.

But soon, I notice a text message from his bank popping out on the notifications' list.

"You have transferred 1,430 dollars to Jamie Sutton. Remark: Babe, happy holidays. XOXO Elias."

It turns out that Elias' anti-formalism rule is meant for me, not others.

I don't bother starting a fight or throwing a tantrum. Instead, I just cancel the booking on my wedding venue that will be used next month. After that, I shred the kidney donation consent form meant for Elias into pieces.

Once the holidays are over, I'm not going to extend Elias' life for him anymore.

Lively chatter filled the dinner table as Elias Barrett sat surrounded by his relatives. He was exceptionally generous today, giving each child a thick envelope of cash. Even his college-aged nephew received a thousand dollars.

I quietly cleared the dishes, his mother's laughter ringing in my ears.

"Elias is always so generous! Unlike some people who pinch every penny."

"Exactly. A good wife should bring fortune to the family, not drain it dry."

Their sharp gazes pierced my back like needles as I carried the plates toward the kitchen.

Elias' mother, Claire Hawthorne, followed me in. She snatched a plate from my hands and slammed it heavily into the sink.

"It's the holidays! Why the long face? My son's handing out money, and you can't even smile? That's his money!"

I kept my head down and turned on the faucet, rinsing the greasy dishes. "It's money I earned too."

Over these five years, I ran a small design studio, working from dawn to dusk to afford the comfortable life we had now. Elias, meanwhile, had long since quit his job to rest at home because of his kidney disease.

"You earned it? Please!" Claire's voice shot an octave. "If my son weren't sick, you wouldn't even need to work.

"You make a little money, and suddenly you think you're something special? If Elias were healthy, who would care about your income? Let me remind you, Myra, that Elias got sick because of you!"

She leaned close to my ear, her voice icy. "You're bad luck. That psychic warned us years ago. You're poison to any man you marry. The only reason you're still here is because you're a kidney match. You owe him that much."

Cold water ran over my fingertips, but I felt no chill. My heart had frozen long ago.

"You'd better behave and prepare for the surgery," she added. "Take care of my son properly. Stop obsessing over that little studio.

"Once you're married, you stay home like a proper wife. That's how marriage works. And that house you bought? Both my name and Elias' go on the deed. That's the family rule."

She paused, as if reconsidering whether she had made her point strongly enough. "Oh, and shut down that studio soon. A woman shouldn't waste time on hobbies when she should be focusing on having children. Once Elias recovers from surgery, I want a grandson. That's what you're really here for."

I turned off the faucet, shook the water from my hands, and turned to look at her calmly. "Are you done?"

"Excuse me?" Claire's face flushed with anger. "You think you can talk to me like that now?"

Just then, a sweet voice came from the kitchen doorway. "Claire, please don't be upset. Myra's just exhausted from work. She's under a lot of stress."

It was Jamie Sutton—Elias' ex-girlfriend, the one he swore he no longer spoke to. She wore a pink dress today, her makeup flawless, and she carried a plate of cut fruit in her hands.