When Love Comes With a Price Tag

My best friend Mira sent me a photoit was a new house my boyfriend Thompson had bought in a top-tier luxury complex in the city center.

I had no idea you guys bought such an expensive place. When are you planning to get married?

I froze. I had no idea Thompson had bought such an expensive house.

And I had even less idea how he could afford it.

After all, just yesterday we'd finally scraped together enough for a down payment on an old house.

My hands trembled as I opened the joint bank account Thompson and I shared.

The red error message about an incorrect password made my panic worse.

My salary card, our emergency fund cardall showed password errors. I couldn't access any of them.

I had a terrible feeling about this.

I pulled up this morning's chat history with Thompson.

I'd sent him listings for several new developments on the outskirts of Seattle, along with other realtor messages I'd forwarded him this week.

Thompson hadn't responded with his usual enthusiasm to discuss prices and locations.

Instead, he'd replied coolly:

[We'll talk about it when I get back from my business trip]

I told Mira everythingabout Thompson buying a house without telling me, and about not being able to access our bank accounts.

The "other person is typing" indicator lingered on the chat screen for a long time.

After a while, Mira finally replied.

[Don't panic yet. Maybe Thompson was planning to surprise you and that's why he kept it secret]

[I asked my friend at the sales office]

[He said Thompson signed for the maximum loan amount, and your name is listed as the mortgage borrower]

I opened the purchase contract photo.

Besides draining all of Thompson's and my savings over the years for the down payment, the remaining loan amount was a twenty-year mortgage for $3.6 million.

Only my name appeared as the borrower.

But why would Thompson decide to buy a house behind my back and use our joint savings?

I downloaded these document photos.

I'd gotten off work early today, and it was also the day Thompson would return home after a week-long business trip.

So I'd gone to the supermarket early to buy groceries, planning to eat together while discussing this weekend's house hunting plans.

I waited at the dinner table, trying to convince myself it might be a misunderstanding.

Maybe Thompson really did want to give me a surprise.

But when Thompson came home and pushed the door open, the first thing he said was:

"Eating at home again? Is saving a few dozen bucks really worth it?"

I didn't respond. I looked at Thompson in front of me and asked instead:

"Is there something you haven't told me?"

Thompson's eyes flickered away for a moment. He impatiently took off his coat.

"What could there be? I'm tired. Let's eat first."

I sat at the table and suddenly remembered the report I'd picked up from the hospital yesterday.

I was pregnant.

Two months ago, the night before his business trip, he'd half-coaxed, half-negotiated with me:

"Once we buy the house, we'll get married. Let's not use protection this time, okay?"

I hadn't expected to get pregnant on the first try.

If he knew about this baby, if he knew I'd already seen that purchase contract...

But why would Thompson decide to buy a house without consulting me?

All of Thompson's and my savings had gone into that down paymentit was basically our entire life savings since we started working.

Plus with my pregnancy, we couldn't even afford to renovate the house Thompson bought, let alone make the mortgage payments.

My thoughts grew increasingly chaotic.

Food that normally tasted good now seemed bland and tasteless.

Several times I tried to bring up this weekend's house hunting plans, but Thompson deliberately avoided the topic.

Finally, Thompson spoke up again in dissatisfaction:

"Can you please stop being so embarrassing?"

"Last time at my company dinner, you insisted on packing up leftovers to bring home. Didn't you find that humiliating?"

I put down my fork, already getting angry.

"Because I wasn't full. If you'd paid any attention to me while we were eating, you wouldn't be asking this."

"And even if I am embarrassing, Thompson, we've been together for seven years."

"Are you only discovering today that I'm an embarrassment?"

Thompson frowned and his attitude softened.

He apologized to me, helped me to the sofa, and began clearing the table.

I looked back at Thompson busying himself.

After getting together in college, all my visions of the future included him.

We were each other's first love.

From the initial innocent awkwardness to gradually depending on each other, we'd had our ups and downs, but we always solved problems together.

He understood my desire to establish roots in Seattle. I supported his career ambitions.

Last year, the money his family had transferred to my bank accountI'd taken it all out and given it to him as startup capital for his business.

I'd imagined that after marriage, we wouldn't be as passionately in love as during our honeymoon period.

But I never imagined that just as we were preparing to get married and buy a house, Thompson would choose to hide things from me.

Before bed, I showed Thompson the floor plan of my coworker's apartment complex that she'd given me.

One last time, I asked him:

"Thompson, are you hiding something from me?"

"If it's about something major that affects both of us, I hope you'll tell me honestly instead of hiding it."

Like a balloon that had been inflated for too long suddenly being popped, Thompson hesitated, then tentatively asked:

"What's wrong with you today? Why are you acting so strange? Do you know something?"

His reaction made me stop the motion of sending him the photos he'd taken at the sales office.

I pressed him further:

"What exactly happened? Just tell me."

Thompson made me promise not to get angry before he would speak.

When I thought Thompson was going to confess about impulsively buying the house, what he said instead was:

"A company order had a safety issue that required compensation."

"All our savings went into the settlement and still weren't enough, so I took out a loan."

"I was afraid you'd feel pressured, so I didn't dare tell you."

"When I asked for your bank authorization signature before, it was because I needed to repay the loan."

Thompson explained everything clearly in just a few sentences.

But my head buzzed and ached.

Company business problems?

If I hadn't seen that purchase contract with my own eyes, I wouldn't have doubted him at all.

I might have even comforted Thompson, told him it wasn't his fault, and helped him repay the loan together.

"That's all?"

I confirmed with Thompson, word by word.

"It's really because of company compensation? You're not hiding anything else from me?"

I pressed again, hoping Thompson would be honest.

Perhaps seeing how serious I was, he suddenly got angry and pushed me away.

"What do you mean? Don't you trust me?"

"Sheila, do you think I wanted this? If it weren't for you insisting on staying in Seattle, would I have taken such a big risk starting a business?"

"Your parents looking down on me is one thing, but now even you think I'm useless, right?"

He slammed the door and left.

I sat on the sofa, touching my still-flat belly, so angry I laughedlaughed until tears streamed down my face.

More than feeling hurt or angry, I now wanted to know why Thompson would do this.

I had Mira contact her friend Chris at the sales office.

Chris was quite surprised and asked us back:

Wasn't the woman who went with Thompson to buy the house that day his soon-to-be-married girlfriend?

Mira sent him my photo.

Chris said that although his memory was fuzzy, it definitely wasn't the same person.

Given the importance of the matter, Chris video-called us.

"The borrower listed on the purchase contract is named Sheila. Is that you?"

"Yes, I'm Sheila. If my boyfriend handled it for me, could the home loan process be completed without me being present?"

There was silence on the other end for a while.

He coordinated with his colleague to send over the previous purchase documents.

After seeing the handwriting on them, he confirmed with me with a complicated expression:

"No, it's not possible. The person must be present to confirm and sign before the bank loan contract can be approved."

"But Thompson did come to view the property multiple times before, and when he finally signed the purchase contract, he was accompanied by a woman."

"My colleague said he personally watched that woman complete the signature."

"We all assumed she was Thompson's girlfriend who he was about to marry."

Mira reacted faster than I did.

She didn't dwell on the loan issue but asked another key question:

"Chris, do you know whose name is on the property deed for this house?"

Like before, Chris went through the documents again before confirming with me:

"Strictly speaking, this house hasn't gone through all the procedures yet and doesn't have a property deed."

"But the names submitted for property registration are Thompson and a woman named Blair."

Having learned this much, even though I didn't want to believe it, the facts were laid out before me.

Compared to my earlier disbelief, I'd actually calmed down now.

All these years I'd worked hard, lived frugally, desperately saved money.

Only to end up with a house under my name for the loan but shared with someone else.

Thompson had not only used our joint savings to secretly buy a house, but also used my name to pay the mortgage.

And in the end, this house belonged to him and another woman.

Nothing in the world could be more absurd and laughable than this.

No wonder Thompson had been traveling frequently for business since six months ago.

No wonder tonight he'd felt so guilty after just a few questions that he stormed out.

I was shaking with anger.

Mira hugged me, heartbroken, while continuing to help me ask what to do about this situation.

The person on the other end gave several suggestions and sent over important documents.

Chris sighed on the video call and advised me:

"Sheila, the solution with the smallest loss is to default on the purchase, losing part of the deposit and penalty fees."

"But this requires both Thompson and that Blair woman to come in together to process it."

Mira thanked Chris for me.

I didn't have the courage to open those documents, much less accept that Thompson had planned to hide this from me forever.

Along with the purchase transaction details, there was also a photo of Thompson and Blair together at the sales office.

The two sat side by side in the center of the luxurious sales office.

Blair held flowers, kissing Thompson.

The ring, necklace, and earrings she wore sparkled in the camera lens.

Mira's sharp eyes noticed that even her bag was quite expensive.

Thompson had given me a matching small wallet from this brand for my birthday before.

I'd been so happy to receive that wallet and felt bad for Thompson having another expense.

Now it seemed I'd just gotten a complimentary gift.

The two celebrated like newlyweds.

Thompson's smile in the photo hurt my eyes.

So all his indifference and impatience toward me appeared as such happiness and doting in front of another woman.

I'd been at home planning our future together.

To lighten his burden, I didn't eat out, only bought cheap discounted clothes.

I even felt bad about taking a cab home when I missed the subway due to working overtime.

But every penny I saved, Thompson handed over to someone else.

Mira wiped away my tears, comforting me that I had to pull myself togetherno matter what, I had to get the money back.

I nodded mechanically, then smiled bitterly and told Mira about my pregnancy.

Mira was also stunned after hearing.

"When did this happen? Does Thompson know? What are you planning to do?"

Just as Mira thought I might not be able to let go because of the baby, I touched my belly and said firmly:

"Come with me to the hospital tomorrow. This baby and I... we're not meant to be."

Even though I'd prepared myself mentally, when I saw the baby's photo, I still couldn't bear to let go.

The doctor said the baby was already nine weeks along and looked very healthy with a stable heartbeat.

Seeing me hesitate, Mira tentatively asked if I wanted to reconsider, or at least tell Thompson.

After careful consideration, I still called Thompson.

In less than half an hour, Thompson rushed to the hospital.

He hugged me, surprised and delighted, carefully touching my still-flat belly and apologizing profusely.

He said it was all his fault, that he shouldn't have lost his temper with me, shouldn't have left without saying anything last night.

His words were so sincere that passersby in the hospital kept turning to look at us.

He half-knelt on the ground, joyfully taking the test results from my hand.

But among the pile of documents, he found the abortion surgery schedule the doctor had prepared for me.

Only then did Thompson realize, and with a complicated expression, he asked me:

"You didn't come here for a checkup today? You came for an abortion?"

Seeing Thompson getting emotional, my best friend shielded me behind her.

Thompson sneered, picked up the surgery schedule and threw it on the ground.

"Just because my company lost money, you're planning to abort this baby?"

"Sheila, I wanted to say this yesterdayyou don't trust me at all. Deep down, you think I'm incompetent and look down on me, right!"

"Yes, back then you rejected all those blind dates your parents arranged for youthey were all from families that matched yours!"

"Otherwise you wouldn't have cut ties with your parents and insisted on dragging me to buy a house in Seattle."

Thompson went on and on, even starting to hint that my parents and I were both snobs.

Even though my family was well-off and my parents could have easily spared money for us to buy a house in Seattle, because I insisted on choosing Thompson and my parents looked down on him, they didn't give us financial support.

They were even so angry about me wanting to marry Thompson that they cut ties with me.

They were angry that I made the decision on my own, traveling all the way from Miami to Seattle, insisting on marrying Thompson.

They'd left me with harsh words, saying they'd only acknowledge me as their daughter if Thompson and I could buy a house in Seattle on our own.

They'd only meant to make me give up, never expecting me to be so stubborn.

I actually never asked them for another cent, relying on my job to save money to buy a house myself.

And Thompson had always harbored resentment, feeling that my parents looked down on him and never took him seriously.

I smiled bitterly, looking at Thompson in front of me.

I swiped through the photos on my phone one by one, showing them to him.

The purchase contract, loan agreement, photos of him and Blair kissing.

Thompson froze for a moment, then suddenly looked up at me in disbelief.