Chapter 18: The Argument
These days, to please Judy, Parson has not only spent a large sum of money but has also handed over his secret savings card to her without hesitation. Now, his pockets were emptier than his face, leaving him with no spare cash to give Daphne Anne for managing the household expenses.
Feeling frustrated, Parson tugged at his tie to relieve his inner anxiety. But as soon as he pulled it, his fingers inadvertently brushed against the slightly raised skin on his neck—Judy’s lingering mark of an intimate kiss. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly tightened his tie again, a fleeting trace of panic flashing across his eyes.
In public, Parson and Judy lived a life of extravagant indulgence. They frequented high-end restaurants, dining in opulent settings bathed in dim, seductive lighting, savoring delicacies from around the world—French foie gras, Japanese sashimi, Italian cuisine—there was nothing they hadn’t tried. But his temper flared instantly when he heard Daphne Anne say that the household expenses had exceeded the budget.
“Didn’t we agree on this before?”
Parson’s voice rose, brimming with impatience. “Fifteen hundred dollars a month for the four of us. Didn’t you say your sister gives you an extra two thousand as an allowance? She only eats dinner at our place occasionally. How could that not be enough?”
As he spoke, he strode into the living room, plopped down on the sofa, and let out a heavy snort. “You waste money, and no wonder my mother always says that women shouldn’t be too educated—otherwise, their desires grow too big, and they become insatiable.” His gaze was disdainful, as if he were looking at someone utterly useless.
Daphne Anne’s eyes instantly turned red upon hearing this. Tears welled up, but she stubbornly held them back. Her voice trembled slightly as she said, “Honey, everything I bought was what you like to eat.”
She looked at Parson with longing eyes, hoping he would understand her good intentions. She wanted him to remember their warm moments when he wasn’t like this.
“Is it really what I like to eat, or what you like to eat?”
Parson suddenly stood up from the sofa, took a few steps toward her, pointed a finger at her, and spat out his words venomously, “Look at yourself—you’ve gotten as fat as a pig! Every time you say you buy food for me, who eats it? Do you not know? Don’t use me as an excuse to satisfy your gluttony.”
Each of his words was like a sharp blade, stabbing straight into Daphne Anne’s heart, without regard for the years of effort and sacrifice she had made for their family.
Daphne Anne felt indescribably wronged. She had never imagined that the man who once showered her with tenderness and vows of eternal love would become so unfamiliar and cruel.
Her weight gain wasn’t due to overeating. For years, she had woken up before dawn every day to prepare breakfast for the family, send the children to school, and then rush to the market to buy groceries. Housework never ended—cooking, washing, scrubbing the floors. After picking up the kids from school, she tutored them on their homework, and only when they were finally asleep did she have a moment to breathe. Even then, she still had to iron Parson’s clothes. Day after day, year after year, this relentless toil had left her with so-called “stress weight.”
But Parson, even if he knew the reason, pretended not to. He seized upon her weight and appetite as an excuse to attack her repeatedly, making himself feel righteous, as if that could cover up his misdeeds outside.
“Then… honey, if you don’t like it, I won’t buy it anymore.”
Daphne Anne bit her lip, her voice choked with emotion. She clutched the edge of her apron tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force.
“Who said I don’t like it?”
Parson cut her off impatiently. “By the way, my mom and my sister’s family are coming over for dinner. Make sure to prepare plenty of food. My nephew likes nuts, and my sister’s favorite is black truffle.”
He rattled off these instructions absentmindedly, his gaze drifting elsewhere, as if he had already dismissed the matter, eager to move on to more pressing personal concerns.
At the mention of “black truffle,” Daphne Anne gasped in disbelief. “Black truffle? That’s a top-tier ingredient! Forget fifteen hundred dollars—even fifteen thousand wouldn’t be enough for a proper black truffle feast!”
She stared at Parson in shock, her eyes wide. “And besides… I—I have no money left.”
Her voice grew softer and softer, until it was barely a whisper, her face etched with despair.
Parson’s expression darkened instantly. His eyes bulged with fury, and within moments, he stormed over to her, his chest heaving, veins pulsing at his temples. He waved his arms wildly in frustration and bellowed, “No money! No money! You tell me you have no money every damn day! But look at your sister—what she eats, drinks, and wears—who pays for it?”
“When she first moved from the countryside, she didn’t have a dime! Now she has money, now she has her studio. I never asked before, but tell me—wasn’t it my money that helped her start it?”
He paced back and forth in the living room, his agitation escalating. “Now that she’s earning, shouldn’t she be giving all her money to you?”
“How could you be so naive? Just two thousand a month, and you’re satisfied? Are you that short-sighted?”
“Am I supposed to be some savior? If you don’t have money, go ask your sister!”
Parson halted abruptly, pointing toward the door, his voice sharp and grating. “Don’t come to me complaining that you overspent. Why can other women manage their households just fine, but you can’t?”
“All housewives handle finances, but look at the mess you’ve made!”
He grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it to the floor violently. “Have you cleaned up today? Have you cooked dinner? Yet here you are, nagging me about money! Remember that I’m paying for the car, mortgage, food, and kids’ expenses. What part of this isn’t my money?”
“You’re broke?! Well, so am I!”
His chest rose and fell as he took deep, ragged breaths, unleashing his fury without restraint.
Daphne Anne couldn’t understand why her husband had exploded with such rage. As a homemaker, wasn’t it only natural for her to ask him for living expenses?