Girlfriend Called Me Stingy, So I Homeless Her Family

Before we moved in together, she told me she was an independent woman who didn't spend a man's money, and she insisted we split everything 50/50.

I said fine. I'd cover the rent, she'd cover the small day-to-day expenses.

But she wasn't having it. Do you have any idea how much the day-to-day stuff adds up to? You cheap little schemer, you're trying to take advantage of me, aren't you?

We ate every meal at the company cafeteria, though, so the so-called day-to-day expenses were nothing but water, power, and gas.

So she said, "I'll pay the rent. You cover the rest."

The apartment was my father's. At market rate it went for at least four thousand a month.

I hated the thought of her spending money, so I had a word with my family, and we only charged the two of us fifteen hundred.

But once we'd moved in, she suddenly decided she didn't want cafeteria food anymore and started demanding I buy groceries and cook.

Rent was fifteen hundred a month. Groceries ran at least three thousand.

I figured couples shouldn't nickel-and-dime each other like that, so I let it go.

One day, mouth full of the crab I'd bought, she mumbled,

"My parents and my brother are coming to stay for a while this weekend, so buy extra groceries."

But my paycheck had just gone toward my mom's surgery. I didn't have any spare cash on hand.

I asked if she could chip in something for the groceries. She slapped her phone down on the table.

"You're living rent-free in a place I'm renting, and you want me to give you money? I don't spend a cent of yours, and now you've got your eye on mine?"

"Groceries and meals barely cost anything. My friend's husband cooks a whole dinner for two bucks. You're the one getting the sweet deal here."

I looked at her and said nothing.

I quietly texted my father: Dad, don't rent the place to her anymore.

"Buy more jumbo prawns next week, and pork ribs, get the baby back ribs, my brother loves those best."

Paige Gilbert barked out her orders while digging through the spicy crab with her chopsticks.

At the bottom of another plate sat the last piece of braised pork belly.

The second I reached for it, her chopsticks shot across, snatched the pork, and shoved it into her mouth.

I set down my bowl.

Since we'd moved in together, most of the meat on every plate ended up in her stomach. I only got what she didn't want.

The day before, I'd worked late until eight, my stomach cramping from hunger.

She came to meet me downstairs from the office, and we ducked into some little diner.

She ordered a basket of steamed dumplings, ten in all.

When they came out, I was so hungry I ate three in a row.

Just as I was reaching for a fourth, Paige slammed her chopsticks down on the table.

"Do you know how many you've eaten?"

"You only think about yourself, don't you? There are only ten in the whole basket, and you've killed three on your own. Did you ever once think about me?"

I was floored, staring at her in disbelief. "Ten in a basket, five each, and I've only had three. What's the problem?"

She flared up instantly. "Five? You've got the nerve to say that? You don't know the meat filling is my favorite? Shouldn't you just eat the skins and leave all the filling for me?"

I waved the owner over, about to order another basket.

She grabbed my hand and pinned it down. "Order what? Another one?"

"A basket of dumplings is fifteen bucks. You've got money to burn? You really don't know how to manage a household."

It was completely unreasonable to me. "So what am I supposed to do when I'm still hungry?"

She just dragged the basket in front of herself.

"Still hungry? Then go home and boil some noodles or gnaw on a roll."

"The steamed dumpling filling is my favorite."

She didn't even glance at me, just started eating in big bites.

In the end she dug out every bit of filling, left a basket of empty skins, wiped her mouth, and dragged me out.

I went home hungry and boiled myself a pot of plain noodles.

That was the day I started keeping accounts.

The fifteen hundred she paid in rent didn't even cover half a month of her own food.

Every day she demanded meat at every meal, fruit on hand at all times, and seafood on the weekends.

All of it, I was footing.

Her voice, touching up her makeup, pulled me back to the present.

She pulled out a tissue, wiped her mouth, and said, "Anyway, you do the math yourself. My parents are coming, partly to see me, and partly to sample your cooking."

"You're going to be my husband, and what matters is that you know how to take care of people and put family first. You'd better make a good impression and not embarrass me."

With that she stood up and left, leaving a wrecked table behind.

Paige and I were college classmates, both in the astronomy club.

She was the club president. At the welcome mixer, she went from the Orion Nebula to black holes, then from the Big Bang to the nebular hypothesis.

Back then I thought she was learned and gifted, different from all the shallow girls,

We clicked, and it felt only natural that we ended up together.

But real life has no stars and no oceans. It's just one mess after another.

Since we graduated and moved in together, she's fancied herself the career-woman lead of her own story, and every bit of the housework has fallen to me alone.

Every day she gets home, sprawls on the couch, and starts scrolling on her phone, waiting for me to bring the food to the table.

The reason she felt so entitled about it was that in her mind, paying that fifteen hundred in rent meant she was supporting me.

And me doing the chores and waiting on her was an even trade.

She had no idea how this apartment had actually been rented.

House-hunting after graduation, she'd fallen in love with this finished two-bedroom at first sight.

But the landlord of this place was actually my father.

I hated the thought of her carrying the rent, so I had a word with my dad and knocked the four-thousand-plus rent down to fifteen hundred.

At the time my father was very pleased with her, thought she was a sensible girl who wasn't a gold digger.

But he'd cleverly buried a trap in the contract.

He explained it as a couples-friendly unit, rented at a discounted rate,

But if the accounts ever showed that one party had long been shouldering the main living expenses, the discount would automatically lapse, and the tenant would have to pay the full difference for the lease term.

Back then Paige only figured she'd landed a steal, signed without even reading the contract.

Looking back now, my father really did see far ahead.

Since she'd taken the good deal and still played the victim, convinced I was the one exploiting her, then fine.

She wouldn't be living in this apartment any longer.

The next morning we each left for work.

A delivery notification came through on my phone.

Earlier, my boss, Mr. Lawrence, had asked me to order him a full set of the newest Apple products.

Paige and I worked at the same company but in different divisions.

The pickup point downstairs from my place had shut down, so I'd used Paige's address instead.

I texted her on WeChat, asking her to sign for it.

She replied with an OK.

Before I clocked out, I was scrolling through my social media feed

when Paige's new post jumped out at me.

The photo was the full set of Apple products I'd bought, but the caption read:

My boyfriend just had to buy it. What can I do but spoil him?

Below it there were already more than a dozen likes and comments:

Damn, Paige, you're so generous!

That's our power woman!

Your pretty-boy boyfriend must be over the moon.

Paige replied, unbothered: It's just a little money. As long as he's happy.

Looking at that post, I felt a wave of nausea.

My stuff, and she was using it to build her power-woman image?

I messaged her right away: Delete the post.

She sent a few laughing stickers first, then a voice message, laughing without a care: "Oh please, it's not a big deal."

"I was just putting on a little show for my friends. Do you really have to make such a huge thing out of it?"

I replied: If you won't delete it, then reimburse me for the money.

She let out a cold laugh: "See, this is exactly why I call you a freeloader."

"You're living in my apartment, and now you've got the nerve to come asking me for money? You think you're in any position to?"

Then she went on: "Other guys buy their girlfriends bags and cars. Did I ask you for any of that? I posted one thing on my feed and you're acting like it's the end of the world. Why are you so petty?"

I looked at the stream of voice messages and said it again: Delete the post. Give me my stuff.

Grinning, she spelled it out one word at a time: "I'm not deleting it. And today I'm going to cure you of that stingy habit of yours."

Looking at my phone, I wasn't the least bit surprised.

She'd pulled this trick countless times before.

The moment I didn't give in to her on something, she'd switch straight to the silent treatment.

In her words, it was punishment.

She said it was to teach me a lesson, to show me what the rules were.

Once in college, I was worn out from studying for finals and didn't go with her to eat at the dining hall. I just went back to my dorm and had a slice of bread.

She froze me out for a full week.

In the end I had to grovel and apologize before she'd hold me and, pretending to be hurt, say:

"Do you have any idea how much it upsets me when you don't eat properly?"

"To make sure you remember this lesson, your fine is sending me a five-twenty cash gift."

I was out of my mind back then. I actually thought she only acted that way because she cared about me too much.

When I got home from work, she was already back.

The full set of Apple products was sitting on the coffee table.

I walked over to pick it up, and she slapped my hand away.

"Go on. Tell me what you did wrong today."

I was so furious I actually laughed.

"You're holding my things and won't give them back, and you're asking me what I did wrong?"

She shook her head like she'd given up on me. "See? You're still splitting hairs over what's yours and what's mine."

"We live together. Living together means I trust you a hundred percent. I've handed my whole life over to you."

"And you? You're my boyfriend, and the second you had some spare cash, you didn't buy me a new phone. You just bought something for yourself."

"Do you know how much I look forward to it every time you say a package came, hoping it's a gift for me? Do you know how much it hurts, being let down over and over, having to talk myself out of it every single time?"

"It's not mine," I said. "I bought it for someone else."

But she didn't believe a word of it. She just launched right in.

"Don't give me excuses."

"Look at me. I don't do baking, I don't go to concerts, I don't keep in touch with a single ex. There's only you in my heart."

"Last week a male coworker said he wanted to drop something off at my place, and I turned him down flat. I told him my boyfriend was home and it wouldn't be appropriate for him to come."

"I never even wanted to bring any of this up. I figured a girl should just give quietly and not make a fuss. But the more I put up with, the more shameless you get."

Listening to her accusations, I felt like the whole world had been turned upside down.

I had never once stopped her from spending time with male coworkers. She'd decided that on her own and pinned the blame on me.

And this full set of Apple products wasn't something I'd bought for myself at all.

Even if it had been, so what?

I looked at her. "So you're not giving it back?"

She raised her eyebrows, pleased with herself, and leaned in close. "That's right. Not giving it back."

I nodded.

Fine. Forget it, then.

Mr. Lawrence had disliked Paige for a long time anyway. The only reason he hadn't cut her loose was that she was my girlfriend.

In that case, there was no reason to keep sparing her feelings.

Seeing me go quiet, she assumed I'd caved. She waved a hand grandly. "All right, go buy the groceries. I want jumbo prawns today."

As she spoke, she transferred me fifty dollars on her phone.

"There. Don't say I never pay for anything. Use this for the groceries, and buy yourself a pack of cigarettes with what's left."

I let out a short laugh. "Right. And with what's left over I could put down a mortgage deposit, couldn't I?"

She didn't catch the sarcasm at all. She just picked up the tablet off the table, tore it open, and started playing with it.

Of course, she didn't notice the engraving on the back, the one Mr. Lawrence had put there for his daughter.

I didn't remind her, either.

As it happened, the past few days were right when next month's rent came due.

But my father hadn't pushed for it, so naturally Paige was in no hurry.

That was how she always handled rent. As long as my father didn't chase her, she'd never pay on her own.

"That landlord's a real idiot," Paige said without even looking up. "Last month I stalled him ten days. This month I'm going for fifteen. As long as he doesn't ask, I don't pay."

She looked at me, smug. "Take notes. Ten days a month, and over a year that's a whole month's rent saved. It's called using the rules to your advantage."

Watching her gloat like that, I found the whole thing bitterly absurd.

Back when we were dating, we were both broke students, and I always thought she was just frugal.

I never imagined she was this selfish, this calculating.

Then the weekend came, and her parents and brother descended on us, loaded down with bags.

Paige ordered me around like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Go make my dad a cup of tea. Not too hot, just warm enough."

"Why are you so slow with that fruit? My brother's hungry, hurry up and get the snacks out!"

Her parents didn't hold back either, settling in like a dowager empress and her consort.

First they complained the water I poured was too hot, then that the fruit I'd bought wasn't fresh enough.

And when her brother grumbled that his phone was lagging,

she didn't say a word, just pulled out Mr. Lawrence's brand-new phone.

"Bet you didn't expect that? Your big sister had it ready for you! Here, go play with it!"

Her brother jumped up, over the moon.

Then she shot me a look, daring me to say something.

I looked away and said nothing.

I'd cooked a full spread for dinner, six dishes and a soup, and by the time I brought the last bowl to the table, Paige and her family had already dug in.

Her father picked up a prawn and frowned as he inspected it. "Noel, this is way too bland. You forget the salt?"

"My daughter's an independent, self-made woman. She's out there grinding all day, and she can't even come home to a decent meal? Then what's the point of having a man around?"

"Oh, come on, Noel's still young, he's still learning." Her mother swatted her father's arm, then turned to me. "Noel, once you two are married, I'll teach you myself."

"You know how it is in our family. Women handle the money, men do the cooking."

"Our Paige likes strong flavors, she likes it spicy. You've got to cook to her taste first."

"You two have been living together most of a year now. Why not just go get the license before the new year?"

"As for the bride price, we won't ask for much. Five hundred thousand, a nice lucky number. We're not into all that empty show, but the money's a sign of good faith."

"You're an only child, so your parents will be leaning on our Paige to look after them in their old age. That means the marital home goes in Paige's name."

"And have your parents buy you a car, something around five hundred thousand, in Paige's name too. Once she gets promoted, she'll want to drive something that looks good."

Her father chimed in. "After the wedding, your paycheck goes to Paige. A man shouldn't have money sitting in his hands."

"You take care of all the housework. Our Paige never lifted a finger growing up. You've got to know how to treat a woman right."

Paige glanced at me and put on a little show of protesting. "Oh, stop, why are you saying all this? Noel already knows. He's a good sport, he won't give me any trouble."

I didn't argue. I just gave a faint smile.

That night, Paige started divvying up the rooms like it was hers to decide.

She put her parents in our master bedroom, her brother in the guest room, and herself on the living room couch.

She looked at me. "Noel, just suck it up and lay out a mat in the bathroom."

"The bathroom?" I repeated.

Paige lowered her voice, irritated. "Do you know how to behave or not? My parents finally make the trip out here, and you, the junior in this house, can't give up a little space? What's the big deal?"

"Besides, I'm the one paying the rent on this place. You sleep wherever I tell you to sleep!"

I let out a short scoff and pulled out the suitcase I'd already packed.

"No need. I've got a business trip today, as it happens."

Paige shot up, furious. "My parents just get here and you take off on a business trip? Who are you putting that attitude on for? We're not even married and you're already acting like my parents don't matter?"

I looked at her. "The company arranged it. If I don't go, I get fired. You planning to support me?"

That shut her up. She waved a hand, annoyed. "Fine, fine, go. Real mood-killer, you are."

The next morning, I woke up in the hotel.

Paige texted me: I'm at the store. Transfer me some grocery money, quick. My mom says she wants two free-range chickens.

I opened the transfer screen and calmly sent her twenty-five dollars.

She lost it instantly, ringing me up in a rage.

"What's twenty-five supposed to buy? You handing me spare change like I'm a beggar?"

I checked the time.

By now, my father should already be at the door with the agent and the property manager.

I explained, all innocence. "Twenty-five isn't enough?"

"Your best friend's husband feeds his whole family for two bucks a meal. I already doubled it for you."

She choked on that, then exploded. "Are you out of your mind, Noel? You just wait!"

She slammed the phone down.

About half an hour later, her call came again, her voice frantic.

"Where are you? Why did a whole crew of security guards just throw my parents out of the apartment?"

"They're saying the place isn't for rent anymore! And they want me to pay some tens of thousands in back charges! What the hell is going on?"