“Equal partners?” I repeated, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. “Brian, I work twenty hours a week because you wanted me to. Because we agreed I’d take care of Chloe during the day.”
“I didn’t make you quit your job,” he said, his tone firm. “You agreed. And you still have income, don’t you? You can handle your share.”
My stomach twisted. “My share? You earn more than four times what I do now.”
“That’s not the point,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s about fairness. I don’t want either of us to feel dependent on the other.”
Dependent. That word lingered like a sour taste.
For a few days, I stewed in silence, feeling a storm build inside me. Then, when I’d calmed down, I told him I’d agree on one condition.
“We’ll put it in writing,” I said.
He frowned. “Why do we need to write it down? You don’t trust me?”
“It’s not about trust,” I replied calmly. “You want equality and clarity. Let’s make it official, put all the details in a written agreement. That way we both know exactly what we’re committing to.”
