There were hundreds of dollars—enough to cover the car repairs, rent, and even some overdue bills.
My stomach twisted.
Marcus had been sitting on this money while I worked 12-hour shifts, exhausted, believing we were struggling.
I could have confronted him right then and there. But as I heard him laughing on a phone call, sounding completely at ease, something in me shifted.
A Moment for Myself
The next morning, after my bakery shift, I did something I hadn’t done in years.
I booked a spa day.
Hair. Nails. A massage. The works.
It was a spontaneous decision, but for once, I chose to do something for myself.
And I didn’t feel guilty.
When I walked through the door that evening, Marcus nearly dropped his phone.
My hair was freshly styled in soft waves, my nails painted deep red, and my entire body felt lighter than it had in months.
Marcus stared at me. “What… what did you do?”
I smiled sweetly.
“I found the money in the cereal box,” I said. “So, I treated myself.”
The color drained from his face.
“You… spent it?” His voice cracked.
“Of course. I deserved a day off, don’t you think?”
The Truth Comes Out
“You shouldn’t have spent that,” Marcus said, his tone uneasy. “It wasn’t meant for… for this.”
“Then what was it for?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. “Because I’ve been working myself to exhaustion, believing we were barely making it, while you’ve been holding onto extra cash?”
Marcus rubbed his face. “It’s not like that, Jess. I wasn’t hiding it. I just… I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry about what?!” My voice cracked. “That is all I do! I worry all the time!”
He sighed, looking down at the floor. “My boss mentioned layoffs. I wanted to set something aside, just in case.”
I stared at him.
“You let me believe we were drowning—**let me work two jobs until I could barely stand—**so you could secretly stash money for a ‘maybe’?”
Marcus winced. “I didn’t think about it like that.”
“No, you didn’t.”
We stood there in tense silence.
Finally, I took a deep breath.
“We’re supposed to be a team, Marcus. But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
His expression softened. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “Sorry doesn’t undo the fact that I felt like I was drowning alone.”
Moving Forward
The next morning, I made him a promise—I wouldn’t touch any more hidden money.
And he made me a promise—there wouldn’t be any more secret stashes.
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But as I stood in the kitchen later that day, staring at the empty spot where the envelope had been, I couldn’t shake one lingering thought:
If he did it once… what’s stopping him from doing it again?