I’d spent years supporting my husband without keeping score. The moment he decided our marriage should be “fair,” I realized he had no idea what that actually meant, so I showed him.I was already in a bad mood before we even got to the supermarket checkout line.My cramps had been hitting me since morning, the kind that made my lower back feel as if somebody had tightened a belt around my spine. I’d spent the entire grocery trip trying not to show it while Ashton, my husband, tossed random snacks into the cart.By the time we reached the register, all I wanted was to get home, put on sweatpants, and disappear under a heating blanket. That’s when I realized my wallet wasn’t in my purse.

I dug through the bag once. Then again, harder.Lip balm. Keys. Receipts. No wallet.”Oh no,” I muttered.The cashier was already scanning our groceries. Ashton stood beside me, scrolling through his phone as if he were reviewing world news instead of fantasy football stats.All I wanted was to get home. quietly grabbed the pack of pads I’d added to the cart and set them on the conveyor belt.Then I leaned toward my husband and whispered, “Can you cover these?”Ashton looked down at the $6 price tag as if I’d asked him to buy me a yacht.Seriously?” he snapped. “I’m not paying for your ‘little wants.’ You’re a grown woman. Handle your own stuff.”The cashier stopped moving.The older woman behind us raised her eyebrows so high they almost disappeared into her bangs.And me? just stood there, blinking.Can you cover these?”