Chapter 4My Husband Chose His Brother Over My Dying Father

On the third day. I went to the finance office to ask when the year-end bonus would be distributed. Ms. Liu from finance said, "The fifteenth of next month." It was too late. My dad's surgery was in eleven days.

During my lunch break, I went to the bank and requested a complete eight-year transaction history. It was twenty-three pages of A4 paper. I sat in the bank lobby on a waiting chair, flipping through them page by page. I wasn't doing math. I was confirming. Confirming how every penny had left our account.

March 2017, Mark's wedding, a gift of twenty thousand, paid by us. September 2017, Mark bought a motorcycle, twelve thousand, "borrowed." All of 2018, a fixed two thousand transferred to my mother-in-law every month, supposedly for "elderly care." My mother-in-law immediately transferred it to Mark—I only found this out later. 2019, Mark's down payment for a house, eighty thousand. 2020, Mark's small shop stock, borrowed four times in total, sixty-three thousand.

2021… I stopped. April 2021. A transfer. Thirty-five thousand. Memo: Mark's car loan. I didn't recall Aaron ever mentioning this to me. I checked my phone chat logs. Nothing. This thirty-five thousand, Aaron had transferred himself. Without telling me.

I continued flipping. July 2021. Twenty thousand. Memo blank. Recipient: Mark Davies. Aaron had transferred this himself too. Also without telling me.

I sat in the bank lobby. The air conditioning was strong, but my back was sweating. I wasn't angry. I was scared. I didn't know how many other transactions I was unaware of. I didn't continue flipping. I folded the twenty-three pages, put them in my bag.

I left the bank, walked to the roadside, and stood for a while. Then I went to the supermarket, bought groceries, and went home to cook.

That night, Aaron came home as usual. Ate dinner as usual. Scrolled on his phone as usual. And as usual, he didn't ask me how my day was. I sat across from him at the dinner table, watching him. He scooped the last bit of rice into his mouth. "Today Mark said that the renovation is still short—"

"Aaron." He stopped.

"What's wrong?"

I looked at him. I wanted to ask so many things. I wanted to ask about the thirty-five thousand. I wanted to ask about the twenty thousand. I wanted to ask how many other transactions I was unaware of over these eight years. But I didn't ask. Because I knew how he would answer.

"He's my brother." He would say that. Just like he had said it a hundred times before.

"Nothing," I said. "I'll clean up after dinner." I picked up the bowls and went to the kitchen. The kitchen door closed. I placed the bowls in the sink. The faucet wasn't on. I stood for a minute. Then I opened my phone and searched for a phrase: "Divorce asset division."