“Congratulations…” you deserve it.
He raised his hand, stopping me.
“Yes, I deserve it. I was the one who stayed late, who brought the customers, who withstood the pressure. And now the salary is up to par. Forty percent more, not counting bonuses.
He uncorked the bottle with a triumphant gesture. He poured two glasses, but before he handed me mine, his expression changed. The euphoria gave way to something cold, calculating.
“Lucia, with this new status… Things are going to change.
“Change?” I asked.
“Yes. Economically. Look, let’s be honest. You work in that small bookshop downtown. You earn little. It’s almost a hobby. I now have a level to maintain.
I felt a knot in my stomach. Not out of fear. Out of disappointment.
“What are you saying, Javier?”
“Separate accounts,” he blurted out bluntly. Fifty-fifty expenses. Mortgage, services, everything. And the rest, everyone pays their own. I don’t want my money to be diluted.
The word was suspended in the air: to dilute. As if I were an unnecessary expense.
“Are you sure?” I stared at him. Do you want us to live like strangers sharing a roof?
“It’s fair. Pure meritocracy. He who earns more, lives better.
I looked at the kitchen. The latest model refrigerator. The garden is spotless. The house he thought possible thanks to his salary. Everything that I had held in silence for years.
“All right,” I replied at last. Fifty-fifty.
He smiled, satisfied.
“I knew you’d understand. It will do you good to try harder.
He gave me a quick kiss on the forehead and went to watch TV.
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