He Said Split the Bill I Said Keep the Kidney

For three years, Ethan and I were bound by the Fifty-Fifty Couple System.

When we went out to eat, I paid for my meal, he paid for his. Movie tickets were split down the middle, and the popcorn was divided kernel by kernel.

Then he was diagnosed with end-stage renal failure. He needed a new kidney.

The System chimed in: [Surgical procedure estimated at $500,000. Host Audrey is required to pay fifty percent.]

I had five thousand dollars in my bank account.

Lying in his hospital bed, Ethan squeezed my hand gently.

"Audrey, it's okay if you don't have the money."

"I looked it up. A kidney on the black market goes for about two hundred and fifty thousand."

He gazed at me, his eyes full of a terrifying tenderness. "You love me that much, don't you? Of course you do."

I looked into his devoted eyes and smiled.

So this was it. The grand finale of the three-year-long marital obedience test.

1

A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind, sterile and sharp.

[Detecting a required kidney transplant for partner Ethan Vance. Total cost: $500,000.]

[In accordance with the Fifty-Fifty principle, Host Audrey Miller must contribute fifty percent of the total, amounting to $250,000.]

[Please complete the payment within seven days, or the penalty protocol will be initiated.]

I stared at my banking app. The balance—$5,321.80—seemed to mock me, my fingers growing numb and cold.

Three years. Three years since Ethan and I had gotten together.

We’d met in college. He’d asked me out right after graduation, his confession full of earnest, soulful promises. He told me he was searching for a love that was pure, perfectly equal, untainted by the vulgarity of money.

And then it appeared: the "Fifty-Fifty Couple" System. It bound us together the moment I said yes.

At first, I thought it was a sign, a testament to our progressive, modern love.

Rent was split exactly in half. Utilities were calculated down to the cent.

The electric razor I bought him for his birthday cost $89.99.

The lipstick he gave me for mine was $94.50. I had to Venmo him the $2.26 difference.

I used to think it was charming, a quirk of our relationship.

Only now did I realize it wasn't a quirk. It was a cage.

Ethan lay propped against the sterile white pillows, his face pale, but his smile was as gentle as ever. He took my hand, his palm warm and dry against my own icy skin.

"Audrey, don't be scared."

"It's okay if you don't have the money."

I lifted my head, my gaze falling into the same deep brown eyes I had once drowned in.

"I looked it up," he said, his voice soft. "A kidney on the black market goes for about two hundred and fifty thousand."

My heart stopped. Just for a second, it simply ceased to beat.

He reached up, stroking my cheek with his thumb. His tone was intimate, full of the tender persuasion I knew so well. "You love me that much, don't you? Of course you do."

He said it so matter-of-factly, like he was asking if I wanted pasta or pizza for dinner.

I stared at him, and a slow, cold smile spread across my face.

So that’s what this was.

This wasn't about some bullshit principle of equality. This entire three-year, meticulously calculated relationship had been one long, elaborate obedience test.

And the final exam had just been handed out.

He wasn't asking for my money. He was asking for a piece of my body to prove that I loved him.

2

"Ethan, are you serious?"

My own voice was a tremor, and I couldn't tell if it was from rage or fear.

A small frown creased his brow, a flicker of annoyance at my question. "Audrey, we've been together for three years. My life is literally in your hands." He let out a soft, pained sigh. "Was it all a lie? Everything we had?"

He began to cough, a weak, theatrical sound, leaning back against the pillows as if another question from me might just finish him off.

Just then, the hospital room door flew open.

Ethan's mother, Carol, blew in like a storm front. She didn't even glance at me, rushing straight to the bedside to grab Ethan's other hand.

"Ethan, honey! How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?"

"I'm fine, Mom." He patted her hand, but his eyes darted toward me. "It's just… Audrey. I don't think she's willing."

Carol's gaze snapped to me, sharp and venomous. "Audrey, what is your problem?" she hissed. "Ethan is dying, and you're hesitating?"

"It's only two hundred and fifty thousand dollars! Do you have any idea how much time and effort my son has invested in you over the past three years? How do you even begin to calculate that?"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Carol, we split everything fifty-fifty. He hasn't spent an extra dime on me."

"Bullshit!" Her voice was shrill. "He let you cook and clean for him! That was a privilege, a chance for you to prove your worth!"

"He let you move into our building and only charged you half the rent! Do you know how many women would kill for a chance to pay to be near him?"

She jabbed a finger in my direction, her face contorted with fury. "My son is a catch! Being with you was the biggest blessing of your life!"

"And now, when he needs you to save him, you drag your feet! What’s one kidney? You women have two of them! You won't die if you lose one!" she shrieked. "We've taken care of you for three years. Think of it as repaying a debt!"

Repaying a debt?

I was the one who rushed home from my job every single day to shop, cook, and clean for the two of them. I was the one who served Ethan his dinner while he sat on the couch, controller in hand, screaming at a video game. Carol had never so much as washed a single dish, accepting my unpaid labor as her royal due.

This was the "debt" they spoke of.

Watching the two of them, one playing the victim, the other the aggressor, their routine so perfectly rehearsed, it all finally clicked into place.

I wasn't Ethan's girlfriend.

I was a pre-ordered organ donor. A live-in, unpaid housekeeper.

And it was time for them to collect.

Ethan, ever the gentle manipulator, added his soft appeal. "Mom, don't say that. Audrey's just having a hard time processing." He turned back to me, his eyes filled with a carefully measured dose of disappointment and pleading.

"Audrey. Please, just do this for me. For us."

I watched his performance, a sheet of ice forming around my heart.

I took a deep, steadying breath. Then, I looked at him, at his mother, and gave them the brightest, most brilliant smile I could muster.

"Okay."

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