The Tissue That Cost Me My Baby

My husband, Alec, and I had been married for three years, and he insisted on splitting every single cost down to the last kilowatt of electricity.

The day I found out I was pregnant, he calmly pulled out a calculator. Audrey, pregnancy expenses will be fifty-fifty. After the baby is born, if you choose to breastfeed, youll need to compensate me for my lost work hours. Youd be monopolizing a shared household resource.

I trembled with rage, tears blurring my vision. He handed me a tissue. Dont cry. Thats two cents a tissue. Ill add it to your tab.

I burst out laughing, a hollow, bitter sound, and then, right there in front of him, I booked an abortion.

I stared at the numbers, a dry, bitter laugh catching in my throat. With a flick of my wrist, I screenshot it, saving it. This nauseating message was the final epitaph for any lingering illusions I had about him, about this marriage.

I ignored him, hailing a cab straight to the hospital and checking into gynecology. Alec probably thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He sent a new message. Not comfort, not concern, but an Excel spreadsheet.

[Monthly Household Expenses].

In the notes, hed written: You exceeded your shower time by 5 minutes recently. Water bill increase: 15%.

The words stung my eyes. I turned off my phone.

In the hospital corridor, expectant mothers sat around me, their husbands doting on them. Their faces were radiant with unconcealed joy. The men handed them water, peeled oranges and brought them to their lips, constantly checking on their comfort.

Audrey. The nurse called my name.

I walked into the consulting room alone. The doctor looked at my examination results, then up at me. Wheres the family? We need a family members signature for the procedure.

I forced a smile, one uglier than a cry, my voice devoid of warmth. Hes dead.

The doctor paused, then didn't press for details. Before signing the consent form, a strange impulse made me want to give him one last chance.

I dialed Alecs number. The phone rang for a long time before he answered. The background was noisy, and a cloying female voice drifted through. Alec, darling, who is it? Come help me with this project proposal, please. The voice was sickly sweet. It belonged to Scarlett, his idealized first love, who had just returned from abroad.

Alecs impatient voice came through the receiver. Audrey? Im in the middle of a multi-million-dollar deal. What do you want now?

My hand, gripping the pen, trembled violently, the pens shaft almost snapping under my fingers. Im about to have surgery, and you

Handle that minor abortion yourself. Dont interrupt my important business, he cut me off, his voice laced with contempt. A mature adult should know how to manage their own body and emotions.

And remember to get a receipt. Otherwise, I wont reimburse my half.

The call ended. Listening to the busy signal, a sudden realization hit me: my three years of marriage had been a colossal joke.

My chest heaved. When I opened my eyes again, all hesitation was gone. I signed my name on the surgical consent form, each stroke deliberate and firm.

Two hours later, the nurse wheeled me out of the operating room, utterly drained. She handed me a medical waste disposal slip, detailing the disposal of the embryonic tissue. I picked up the paper, still bearing my bloodstain, and with my last reserves of strength, snapped a photo. I sent it to Alec.

Your half? The hospital disposed of it as medical waste. Disposal fee is $50. Transfer me $25.

He replied instantly. You actually went through with it?

Audrey, you unilaterally destroyed a shared family asset of incalculable value. Well settle this score thoroughly when you get back! I dragged my aching body back to our so-called home.

A cold, dark room greeted me. Alec hadnt returned. I opened the fridge, looking for something to eat. My half of the fridge was empty. His half, however, was locked shut with a small combination lock.

The blood in my veins turned to ice. This was my husband, on the day I miscarried, terrified I might eat one of his eggs.

I ordered takeout, a bowl of hot soup. The moment I placed the order, Alecs message arrived. You ordered takeout? Youll be responsible for 80% of the takeout waste disposal fee. I dont eat takeout, so I wont generate that trash.

I was too weak to reply.

The soup arrived slightly cold. I took two sips, and my stomach churned. The soup, mixed with bile, spilled onto the cold floor. I collapsed onto the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through my social media.

One post caught my eye, a sharp stab to my heart. It was from Scarlett.

First day back in the city, thanks to Alec for the welcome dinner! The King Crab was amazing~

Accompanying the caption was a photo of a cracked crab leg. In the background, a womans hand was conspicuously visible. On her wrist was a Fendi watch, worth hundreds of thousands.

I clicked on the full image, my gaze fixed on that watch. Last year, on my birthday, I had seen the same watch in a boutique and loved it. I wanted to buy it, but Alec pulled me away, righteously declaring, Married couples should be rational consumers. This money would be better saved as a family emergency fund.

Now, his supposed cash flow problems had vanished, reappearing on his idealized first loves wrist. Meanwhile, I, his lawful wife, had just miscarried his child and couldnt even stomach a warm meal. I felt no pain, couldnt cry. My chest was hollow, filled only with cold.

I stood up and walked, step by painful step, to his study. I began to search through his computer and filing cabinets. Since he loved keeping tabs so much, I would help him settle the real scores.

Late into the night, the lock turned. Alec was home. He carried the heavy scent of perfume, not mine, but the one Scarlett always wore. He noticed my pale face, but offered no concern. Instead, he frowned. You were home today. Why isnt the floor swept? We can skip the cleaning service tomorrow. You can do it.

I let out a cold laugh, looking up at him. How was Scarletts King Crab? Was it delicious?

He froze, then bristled, defensive. That was a client dinner, reimbursed by the company. Audrey, can you stop being so unreasonable?

I had a miscarriage, I stated calmly.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face, but he quickly reverted to his cold, detached demeanor. Your miscarriage was a unilateral decision. The physical toll it took on you is your own responsibility, not mine. He pulled a printed list from his briefcase and slapped it on the table. This is a recommended list of nutritional supplements for your recovery. Ive already compared prices by brand and quantity. You can purchase them yourself.

Remember, personal expenses. Im not paying.

The next day, I dragged my still-recovering body to the kitchen to brew myself some herbal tea. Alec followed, like an overseer, his eyes glued to the gas meter. That pot of water has been boiling for nearly twenty minutes. Ill note down the gas fee. Itll be deducted from your account at the end of the month.

I looked at his handsome but cruel face and found it utterly ridiculous. Right in front of him, I opened my banking app and transferred him $0.01. Here. Keep the change.

His face darkened. Audrey, what is that supposed to mean?

Nothing. A tip.

He was speechless with rage, slamming the door as he left.

Soon after, my phone vibrated. A message from Scarlett. She pretended to have sent it to the wrong person.

Thanks, darling, for letting me borrow Alec for the day. I absolutely adore this handbag. Its just so expensive, I feel bad making Alec spend so much.

Below was an image: an Hermes box, next to a receipt. I zoomed in. The total was 0-020,000. Almost simultaneously, I received a bank alert. Alecs supplementary credit card had just made a 0-020,000 purchase at a luxury department store.

That supplementary card was one Id given him, with a shared limit, for his so-called business entertaining. It had become his ATM for buying handbags for his idealized first love.

In three years of marriage, his most expensive gift to me was a necklace he bought on sale for $999. The money even came from our shared household account. But for Scarlett, just back in the country, it was a six-figure handbag.

That evening, Alec returned home. I tossed my phone in front of him. A 0-020,000 handbag. Explain.

He glanced at it, not a hint of remorse on his face. I lent it to her. Shell pay me back later. Besides, shes a young woman, just back in the country, unfamiliar with everything. Whats wrong with me helping out a friend?

His blatant double standards infuriated me. Then I miscarried, and Im not well. Why dont you help me out?

His answer revealed his true nature. Youre my wife, my partner in this household. You should be capable of independently managing risks. Shes different. Shes fragile, she needs protection.

I looked at his self-righteous expression and suddenly lost the urge to cry. It became clear. In Alecs mind, I, his wife, was merely a partner for splitting costs and sharing risks. His idealized first love, however, was a precious treasure to be doted on without regard for cost.

I said nothing more. I quietly returned to my room and closed the door.

The post-operative infection hit swiftly and violently. In the middle of the night, I woke up shivering from a deep chill, my body burning like a furnace, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. The thermometer read 104.4F (40.2C).

I nudged Alec awake, my voice as weak as a whisper. Alec, take me to the hospital I feel terrible. I cant

He stirred, annoyed, rolling over and glancing at his phone. The glow of the screen highlighted his furrowed brow. I caught a glimpse of a message from Scarlett: Alec, darling, its thundering outside. Im so scared, I cant sleep.

He immediately sat up and began dressing. You can take a cab yourself. I have an urgent matter to attend to.

I used my last ounce of strength to grasp his sleeve. I might die.

He recoiled in disgust, pulling his arm away with such force that I tumbled off the bed. Audrey, stop with the melodrama for sympathy. A simple abortion cant kill you. Can you just be mature?

Your irresponsible behavior is wasting family rest resources and severely impacting my work efficiency tomorrow!

The door slammed shut, cutting off the sound of his retreating footsteps.

I lay on the cold floor, my consciousness fading. I struggled to reach my phone and dialed 911.

I next woke up in the emergency room. White ceiling, acrid smell of disinfectant. A doctor was on the phone with a family member, his tone harsh. Are you Audreys husband? The patient is experiencing severe post-operative hemorrhaging and urgently needs a blood transfusion and surgery. Get over here and pay the fees and sign the consent form!

From the other end of the line, Alecs voice came through, colder than ice. Shes an adult. Shes responsible not only for her own actions but also for her own bills.

This expense is not within our joint household budget. I wont pay.

The doctor was clearly infuriated and put him on speaker. Alecs voice echoed clearly throughout the emergency room. I heard a nearby patients family member gasp, then whisper, That animal.

Furthermore, this infection is due to her individual constitution, an individual accident. According to our prenuptial agreement, personal accident expenses are borne by the individual.

I lay on the hospital bed, semi-conscious, listening to his words, and the last tear slid from my eye. Not for him, but for my own blindness over these three years.

Well done, Alec.

You finally, with your own hands, killed the last flicker of love I held for you.

When I was fully conscious again, my best friend, Julia, sat by my bedside, wiping away tears. Seeing my eyes open, she immediately gripped my hand, trembling with rage. Audrey, listen to this! Is this animal even human?

She pressed play on her phone, and Alecs bone-chillingly cold voice filled the room. This expense is not within our joint household budget. I wont pay

It turned out, Julia had rushed to the emergency room and arrived just as the doctor put Alec on speaker. She, quick-witted, recorded the entire conversation. In the recording, the murmurs and gasps of other patients families were clearly audible. It was perfect evidence, enough to nail Alec to the pillory of public shame.

Julia cried, Im putting this online! Everyone needs to see what kind of monster he is!

I pulled out the IV needle from my arm and shook my head at her. My face was devoid of color, my eyes chillingly calm.

No, I took her phone, my voice hoarse, but with a thrill of impending vengeance. The internet is too cheap a punishment for him.

I retrieved the recording, then deftly forwarded it to two people: Alecs mother and his direct superior. Julia leaned in for a closer look, gasping. Audrey, you

I watched the sent successfully notification, then forced a pale smile. I said to her, word by word, Contact the best lawyer you can find. Then, the show begins.