I endured ten months of pregnancy and gave birth, only for him to accuse me of freeloading?
Freeloading what? A belly full of stretch marks and a cesarean scar?
I turned back, glaring at Nigel, hoping to see some careness in his eyes, but I found none.
Faced with the list of expenses, I croaked, "Nigel, don't you have any conscience? I just gave birth to your child, and you're asking me for money now?"
I thought Nigel had some sense of decency, but his next words were even more inhumane.
"Julia, the child isn't just mine. Don't act like giving birth is a great achievement.
"Besides, you're the child's mother. You should also be responsible for raising him. So, you must split these expenses with me. You can't expect me to pay for everything while you freeload a child."
At that moment, I couldn't understand why I ever married someone like him.
His pettiness in everyday matters was one thing, but to haggle over the costs of childbirth was another.
Nigel continued to morally condemn me as if I had committed a grave sin.
It was as if not giving him the money meant I deserved to be hit by a car or struck by lightning.