Sunlight poured through the window of the small, but cozy apartment, casting a warm glow over the photos that adorned our walls. Each snapshot told a story of the four years Eli and I had been together since we'd met at a local art fair. Four years of love, laughter, shared dreams, and increasingly frequent arguments over money.
Eli had left early that morning to capture the perfect sunrise, his eyes alight with creativity, and then do some grocery shopping. Meanwhile, I was left alone with a nagging urge that had been building inside me for weeks.
"New York has a way of wearing you down," he had said last night, his voice tinged with both resignation and optimism. I knew he meant the city's relentless pace, its constant demands, and the pressure to succeed.
Perhaps it was the way Eli had looked at me last night, a spark in his eyes that I hadn't seen in a while, or the way he'd casually mentioned a friend's upcoming wedding. Whatever it was, it had ignited a longing in me to revisit our wedding fund. A longing mixed with fear.
Money had always been our Achilles' heel, the quiet, relentless adversary that threatened to tear apart the love we'd built. I knew it was irrational to check the balance so suddenly. We hadn't spoken about the wedding or our future in a long time, too consumed by our daily struggles. But today, something felt different, something drew me to that account, and I couldn't shake it off.
With trembling hands, I opened the laptop and logged in, my heart pounding in anticipation and dread. But the moment the negative balance appeared on the screen, a thought crashed into me like a tidal wave—Eli couldn't see this, not now. Not while he was still buoyant from the beauty of the morning's sunrise, not while his hopes were high. The number glared at me, a stark reality etched in red:
Wedding Fund Balance: -$1544.45
A sharp pang of disappointment stabbed at my chest. How had we gone from our dreams of a wedding, of a future together, to this? The wedding fund, once a symbol of hope, now sat in the red, like a fading memory slipping through our fingers.
I closed the laptop hastily as Eli's keys jingled in the hallway, not wanting him to see the despair in my eyes, not wanting to draw him into another argument about money. Not when he had a photographer's enthusiasm bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.
"Hey, babe," he grinned, setting the grocery bags on the counter. "The sunrise was incredible this morning. You won't believe the shots I got." His eyes flicked to the breakfast, and he chuckled, "I didn't realize it was so late. I picked up some groceries on the way back."
I forced a smile, my mind still reeling from the numbers. "It's fine, Eli. I can't wait to see the pictures. How about some eggs?"
He beamed at me, his joy contagious, but as he began to unpack the groceries, his expression shifted. The lines on his forehead deepened, and his once bright eyes dimmed like a fading sunset. "Madi, I was thinking about driving out to see my parents for the weekend. A change of scenery, you know?"
The suggestion was tempting, but the haunting negative balance kept me grounded. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Eli; our budget is still tight. My company is considering downsizing again, and I barely made the cut last time." My voice wavered as I pointed to his neglected camera equipment, adding, "And don't forget you haven't had many assignments lately."
Eli's smile faltered, and he looked away, his shoulders slumping. " Madi, I know money's been a constant issue, but maybe getting away for a bit will help us reset. I want to provide for you too, you know."
I felt a surge of frustration. "Look, whether you like it or not, I'm the primary breadwinner in this house," I snapped. "I just think we should be more careful with the money we have coming in; especially since it's mostly mine anyway."
His face flushed, and his voice grew cold. "Pardon me for being a little old-fashioned in thinking that I should be providing for you rather than the other way around."
A surge of exasperation overcame me. "Oh, come on, Eli! If the roles were reversed, would you really be okay with me not contributing?"
His laugh was bitter, strained. "Madi, this isn't about gender. It's about what I believe in."
I felt the sting of tears, my voice quivering with suppressed emotion. "You know what, maybe it is about gender. Maybe if I were a guy, you wouldn't have an issue with it."
He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not gay, babe. If you were a man, we wouldn't be dating."
I could feel tears stinging my eyes, but I fought them back. "I don't suppose there would be any point in suggesting you look for another job. The magazine can always use more photographers."
He slammed the bags on the table. "What I do is photography, Madi, not pointing a camera at pretty girls and pressing a button." He paused, his voice softening. "It's a waste of my talents, and I'm tired of you bringing it up all the time."
My frustration boiled over. "Well, I'm tired of getting ulcers while you just sit around doing nothing," I yelled, my fist coming down hard on the table.
His eyes blazed with a mixture of shock and hurt, his fingers curling into fists. "Fine. You want a break from it? You've got it."
Before I could respond, he grabbed his keys and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him. The apartment seemed to absorb the echoes of his departure, leaving me in the silence of our shattered argument. Remnants of our happier times surrounded me, photographs on the wall capturing smiles that felt like distant memories.
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