I was surprised when James demanded that we split all expenses equally after his salary doubled. At his insistence, I worked part-time, but I agreed only if we put it in writing. He had no idea that my agreement was the first step in my plan, not a capitulation.
I never thought I would be the kind of woman who would sacrifice her career for a man. And here I was, sitting at the kitchen table across from James, listening to him explain why I should work less.
Our daughter Emily was only three months old, and he painted such an appealing picture of our future together.
‘Think about it, Sarah,’ he said. ‘We’re parents now, and I know you want to spend as much time with Emily as possible. Working part-time will give you that opportunity.’
‘I know,’ I replied, “but I love my job, James. I’m not sure I want to make such a drastic change in my career at this stage.
Something deep down told me that it wasn’t quite right, but I pushed that feeling aside.
‘What about my consulting projects? I’ve spent years building those relationships.’
‘They’ll always be there,’ James assured me.
‘But these early years with Emily? We’ll never get them back.’
The next six years flew by as we took care of the house, picked up the children from school, and worked part-time as consultants. But I felt that something was missing. I kept in touch with many of my former colleagues, and sometimes it hurt to hear about their promotions.
While I was juggling everything else, James’s career was skyrocketing.
One night, when everything changed, James burst into the house with a bottle of champagne in his hands.
‘I got it!’ he announced.
‘A promotion. And wait until you hear how much they added to my salary.’
‘Now that I’m earning this kind of money, we need to formalise our financial agreement,’ he said. ‘I think it would be fair if we split everything 50-50. Bills, groceries, mortgage — everything.’
I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.
“Are you serious, James? I work part-time, remember? And it was your idea to reduce my hours. I’m already stretched thin running the house and taking care of our daughter. How do you expect me to contribute equally?
He shrugged.
‘It’s not my fault you agreed to less.’
‘I didn’t choose this,’ I reminded him. ‘You insisted on it.’
‘Yes, but things are different now.’
‘So let me get this straight: you want me to run the house, raise our child, and still contribute half of every expense?’
‘It’s fair,’ he replied. ‘We’re a team, aren’t we? And on a team, everything should be equal.’
I said nothing. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and he smiled at me like a child at Christmas.
‘You want fairness?’ I muttered.
“Fine. I agree, but on one condition: we’ll make it official. We’ll draw up an agreement and have it notarised. Everything will be fair, split down the middle.
‘That’s a great idea, darling!’ said James, smiling from ear to ear.
‘I’ll be busy tomorrow, so can you take care of the paperwork and let me know when everything is ready to sign?’
‘Of course,’ I replied, forcing a smile and taking a sip of champagne.
The months that followed were a revelation. Very quickly, he began to treat me differently.
‘You should see these people at the top management meetings,’ he said once, adjusting his expensive tie in the mirror.
‘I would if you let me join,’ I replied cautiously.
James laughed.
“You’d stick out like a sore thumb in that club! No offence, darling, but it’s not the place for someone with your budget. Besides, it’s not your scene, you wouldn’t know what to talk about.
I smiled and nodded, watching him become increasingly unbearable. The turning point came when he announced that he would be attending an important networking event.
‘The CEO is hosting a private gathering at that new restaurant everyone’s talking about…’ He paused, glancing at me. ‘But you probably haven’t heard of it, given your social circle.’
‘Are you kidding?’ I said. ‘I don’t live under a rock, James. When is this event? I’d love to go. I hear the chef has an excellent reputation.’
‘Oh, you can’t come with me. It’s a high-level event,’ he explained paternalistically. ‘You’d feel out of place.’
I replied with a weak smile:
‘I understand… good luck at the event.’
Two weeks later, James came home in complete shock. His expensive suit was wrinkled, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.
‘I’ve been demoted,’ he said, collapsing onto the sofa. ‘My position has been “restructured”. But they didn’t just put me back in my old role — they put me in an even lower position! My salary is worse than when I first started! It doesn’t make sense.’
‘Actually, it makes perfect sense,’ I said quietly.
‘That promotion? It came through my old network of contacts. Your boss, Mike, and I have known each other for a long time. When I told him that my husband wanted to move up…’ I let the words hang in the air.
‘What?’
‘But then why was I demoted?’
‘It’s simple. I helped build your success, James. And when you showed me who you really are, I decided to take it back. And that’s not all.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ he exploded. ‘Obviously, this 50/50 split isn’t working anymore!’
‘If I could do it, I think you can too,’ I replied.
The next two years were painful as our marriage fell apart because of his anger. James couldn’t accept the reversal of roles and couldn’t bear that I was succeeding while he was struggling.
And that old agreement he had insisted on came back to haunt him when we finally signed the divorce papers.
