Three days after my hysterectomy, still sore and exhausted, I shuffled into the kitchen hoping for comfort. Instead, I found an invoice taped to the fridge. In Daniel’s neat accountant handwriting, it read: “Itemized Costs of Caring for You — Please Reimburse ASAP.” He had listed everything — driving me to the hospital, making meals, even “emotional support.” At the bottom: $2,105 due.
I stood frozen, realizing my husband was keeping score of what should have been love. But if he wanted to turn care into a business, I could out-account him. Over the next weeks, I created my own spreadsheet. Every dinner cooked, every errand run, every emotional burden carried — all priced and logged.