Eight Years Together And I Was Worth Two Grand A Month Chapter 01

Eight Years Together And I Was Worth Two Grand A Month Chapter 01

Living together for five years, Julian gave me a monthly allowance of 2,000 dollars.

He said his take-home pay was only 5,000 a month, so we had to pinch pennies and save up for a wedding.

I believed him.

I never bought a dress over 100 dollars, and during the summer, I was too afraid of the utility bills to turn on the air conditioning.

While doing the laundry, a jewelry custom-order receipt fell out of his suit pocket.

A 68,000 dollar diamond ring.

I was happy for exactly ten seconds.

Then I saw the recipient’s name—it was a woman I didn’t know.

I opened his laptop, and his bank statements were spread across the screen.

His monthly salary was 48,000 dollars, and he was transferring 40,000 every month to that woman.

The 2,000 dollars he left for me was the total price tag he put on our eight-year relationship.

When he came home that evening, I asked him about the custom order.

He paused for a moment, then tenderly stroked my hair.

“I was just helping a colleague order it. You’re overthinking.”

Then he turned to the kitchen to cook me a bowl of pasta.

His phone screen lit up.

The contact name was a red heart emoji, followed by one word.

“Wife.”

***

Julian walked through the door at nearly eleven.

He changed his shoes, saw me sitting at the dining table, and walked over to casually brush a stray hair from my forehead.

“Why are the lights off?”

I said, “Saving electricity.”

He let out a short laugh and brought out a bowl of oatmeal from the kitchen.

“Eat. You haven’t been eating properly again.”

I looked at the bowl and suddenly spoke.

“Julian, what was that jewelry receipt about?”

His hand holding the bowl froze for a split second.

In an instant, he regained his composure.

“Just helping a coworker. Were you digging through my pockets?”

I said, “It fell out while I was doing laundry. 68,000 dollars—your coworker is very generous.”

He looked down and smiled, pushing the bowl toward me.

“He makes a lot of money. Come on, eat.”

He said it so casually.

So casually that I almost believed him.

But that 48,000 dollar statement was burned into my mind, searing with pain.

He picked up his phone to reply to a message.

The screen flashed.

The contact name: a red heart, followed by—”Wife.”

I lowered my head and slowly finished the oatmeal.

I didn’t say another word.

The next day was Saturday.

Julian left early in the morning, saying the company called him in to audit some data.

I sat on the bed, thought for a long time, and then searched the address on my phone.

The Grand Riverside.

One of the most expensive developments downtown, with units starting at 80,000 dollars.

I hadn’t even had a coffee in that neighborhood.

Then I searched the name Melody St. James.

An exquisite account popped up on social media.

The feed was full of lifestyle shares: fitness, travel, luxury dining, and fashion.

Every photo radiated the relaxed aura of someone being meticulously taken care of.

The latest post was from yesterday.

The caption read: “Hubby took me to that omakase place I’ve been craving after he finished work. We waited two months for this table—so worth it!”

In the corner of the photo, Julian’s profile flashed by.

He was picking up a piece of fatty tuna and tenderly offering it to the camera.

Last week, I asked him if he wanted to get sushi.

He said it was too expensive and unnecessary; we could make it just as well at home.

I scrolled down.

A month ago, she posted:

“Woke up to a new car! Hubby was worried about me Ubering everywhere, so he bought me a little BMW in cash. How did I get so lucky?”

A white BMW Mini was parked in an underground garage with a large bouquet of roses in the passenger seat.

I’ve been riding my electric scooter for four years; the chain has snapped twice, and he never fixed it.

When I said I wanted to buy a cheap used car, he said there was the subway, so why buy a car?

Further back.

Three months ago.

“Three-year anniversary! Hubby upgraded all our home appliances! He says the home is the most important place and must be comfortable.”

Three years.

Julian and I had been together for eight years, living together for five.

Meaning, in the fifth year, he started another life.

From the fifth year to the eighth.

He lay beside me saying, “Sera, just wait a bit longer.”

Meanwhile, in another home, he was living the life he promised me but never gave me.

I locked my phone, leaned against the headboard, and stared at the peeling paint in the corner of the ceiling.

It had leaked during the storm last summer; Julian said it was too expensive to hire someone and that he’d patch it himself over the weekend.

A year has passed, and it’s still not patched.

At four in the afternoon, I drove to The Grand Riverside.

I parked across the street and looked at the building through the car window.

The lobby glowed with warm lights, and a uniformed doorman stood at the entrance.

I was wearing a pilling hoodie and faded jeans; I didn’t even have the courage to walk in.

I sat there all afternoon.

As it got dark, Julian’s car pulled out of the underground garage.

A young girl was in the passenger seat.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, and while Julian had one hand on the wheel, he held her fingers with the other.

His face wore a smile I had never seen before.

Relaxed, happy—like a man without a care in the world.

When he was with me, he was always frowning.

Saying he was tired, annoyed, or stressed.

Their car turned the corner and disappeared.

I started the engine and slowly drove away.

At nine that night, my phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

[Hey, you sat outside The Grand Riverside for three hours this afternoon. Property management showed me the security footage.]

[You’re Seraphina Vance, right? The one Julian mentioned?]

My fingertips went cold.

A second message followed immediately.

[Don’t be scared, I don’t mean any harm. But I think there are some things we should talk about.]

I replied: [I’m not his ex. I’m his girlfriend. We haven’t broken up.]

The other side was silent for ten seconds.

[Oh, honey. You probably don’t know.]

[In Julian’s heart, it was over between you two a long time ago.]