My Girlfriend Proposed a Split-Cost Wedding; I Agreed, She Knelt

While we were planning the wedding, Anne Delgado insisted we split every cost down the middle.

She laid her hand flat on the stack of receipts and gave me her reasons, and they were airtight.

A wedding is about two people. Yes, you're marrying into my family, but it wouldn't be fair for me to carry all the costs alone.

I looked at her, and I didn't argue.

Seven years together. I didn't want to make an ugly scene over money.

She opened her laptop right away and pulled up a detailed spreadsheet, every figure precise to two decimal places.

Once everything was itemized, my share came to a hundred and eight thousand, eight hundred.

I paid it, and I thought that was the end of it.

Until the wedding, when the officiant reached the vows and turned to her.

"Miss Delgado, do you take Mr. Henson to be your husband, for richer or for poorer?"

With every eye in the room on her, Anne paused, thought for a moment, then pulled out a pocket calculator.

"The venue just told me they added two more tables last minute."

"Thirteen guests on my side, seven on yours."

In the dead silence, the calculator reading off each total sounded impossibly loud.

Finally, she held up her yellow payment code right in front of my face.

"Per head, I covered four thousand six hundred sixteen dollars and forty-six cents for you."

"Transfer it first. We'll get back to the ceremony after."

When I didn't move, her childhood friend, the one who called himself a men's independence expert, stepped in to back her up.

"It's all about equality between men and women now. Splitting the bill isn't about the money. It's about respect."

The best man's tux he was wearing was worth a hundred and eighty thousand.

Ninety thousand of it had come out of my pocket.

I swallowed the "I do" sitting in my throat.

Scanned the code, transferred the money, clean and quick.

Then I turned, pulled that stack of bills back out, and threw it down in front of the two of them.

"Since you love keeping accounts, let's settle every last one of them properly."

1.

Shock flashed across Anne's face. She grabbed my hand at once, her voice dropping low.

"This is not the time for you to throw a tantrum."

"There are people everywhere watching. Let's finish the wedding first."

Her grip was hard, her knuckles digging into the bone, the pain climbing up from my wrist.

So she knew perfectly well what mattered and when.

She'd chosen, at the worst possible moment, to humiliate me anyway.

I shook her hand off and gave a cold laugh.

"When I settle accounts, it's throwing a tantrum. When you do it, it's business?"

She furrowed her brow, her whole face disapproving.

"That's different."

"We went over the earlier bills together and you signed off on them."

"Dragging up old accounts now, if that isn't throwing a tantrum, what is it?"

Jackson Swanson stood beside her in his sharp suit, chin up, arrogant.

"Anne, he just wants to use the wedding to make a scene. Don't indulge him."

"The most important thing for a man is independence. A leech who does nothing but latch on and drain you doesn't deserve to marry into the Delgado family."

I looked him up and down.

The best man's tux on him cost thirty times what my suit had.

The day of the fitting, he'd spotted that one and wanted it instantly.

Anne swiped her card without so much as a glance at it.

"The price doesn't matter. What matters is that you like it."

When she handed me that bill, my chest gave a jolt.

"The best man's tux costs more than the groom's? Who's getting married here, him or me?"

She gave a distracted little sound and just pressed me to sign, quickly.

"This isn't the time to argue over that."

"Jack picked it for the style, not the price."

"You only get one wedding. Don't get hung up on saving a little money."

My pen hovered over the signature line, and my mind went back to all the suits she'd vetoed.

"This one's too flashy. We're getting married, not entering a beauty pageant."

"This one's over budget. Something practical and affordable is always the safest choice."

After all that looking, she settled on a plain, unremarkable Mandarin-collar jacket.

The tag was only six thousand.

Anne briskly transferred three thousand to me and then whisked Jackson off to pick out jewelry.

"Your outfit's so grand, you need a watch to balance it out."

That night, when we got back, she pushed the receipt in front of me.

"The best man's accessories. Look them over, and if there's no problem, give me the money now."

I took it and glanced at it. The number of zeros after the total in the bottom right corner was too many for me to even count.

The anger inside me started to swell.

I flung the receipt back in front of her.

"Who exactly are you marrying?"

She rubbed at the space between her brows, her eyes saying I was being a child.

"Jack barely managed to squeeze out the time to be the best man. Why do you keep nitpicking over this?"

"Ferdinand Henson, don't be so cheap."

I let out a laugh.

The entire cost of the wedding, less than ten percent of it had gone to anything for me.

And now she was blaming me for not being generous enough.

In the end, I gave her the money anyway.

I just wanted to see exactly how much she was willing to spend on Jackson.

But just now, even during the vows, she hadn't forgotten to run the tab.

The calculator reading off those totals, everyone below heard every word of it.

Each number it spat out landed like a slap across my face.

Making all my patience up to now look like nothing but a joke.

I peeled off my jacket and threw it on the floor, my voice hard.

"Until this account is settled, there's no wedding today."

The guests below erupted.

The buzz of it rolled up onto the stage like a tide.

Something like humiliation flickered across Anne's face.

I looked away, hiding the last flicker of struggle in my own eyes.

The truth was, Anne hadn't always been like this.

Seven years together, and we'd never once fought about money.

Anything I glanced at twice while we were out would be sitting in our living room the next day.

Back then she was always saying it.

"When you love someone, you buy them the things they love most, the very best."

Until the gifts piled up with nowhere left to put them.

Until Jackson came home from abroad.

He started preaching that male-independence theory of hers to anyone who'd listen.

Called a man who accepts gifts like that a kept man, a leech rotting from his own weakness.

Without asking me, he listed every single thing Anne had ever given me on a resale app, dirt cheap.

My friend bought these for her deadweight boyfriend. Selling them off cheap.

And every last cent from those sales went straight into his pocket.

Then he set to work getting Anne into the habit, starting with the wedding, of splitting every cost with me.

He clamped a hand on Anne's arm, his tone looking down from on high.

"Long-term dependence on someone else only leaves you unable to stand on your own."

"You need to help him build the habit of independence. Don't let love make him lose himself."

I thought Anne would refuse.

But she took it all in, and then took it further than anyone.

She talked me into it.

"Jack's an expert on men's issues, he knows all this. Listen to him, you can't go wrong."

"Ferdinand, I'm doing this for your own good too."

And now every dollar she'd saved off me had gone straight to Jackson.

Anne pulled the stack of receipts out of my hand, tore them up in front of me, and dropped them in the trash.

"Forget the old accounts."

"Have some sense. Don't embarrass your parents."

I turned toward the crowd on instinct.

At the head table sat Anne's mother and father and Jackson's relatives. The two figures I was looking for weren't there at all.

Something in my eyes went cold.

"Anne, where are my parents?"

She touched the pearl at her earlobe, her tone matter-of-fact.

"They weren't willing to split half the cash gifts with the Delgados."

"They can't eat at this reception for free."

"The Henson side, I talked them all out of coming."

I slowly tightened my fist, the knuckles going white.

"Then why are Jackson's relatives here?"

"More people means the room actually looks full."

"They were kind enough to come and help. Don't keep picking at it."

Behind him, at some point Jackson had slipped the ring off the tray and onto his own finger.

"Nice stone, good fire on it. One day I'll buy myself one off my own back too."

Anne glanced back and didn't stop him.

"If you like it, keep it on a few days for fun."

I went to snatch it back.

My hand had barely reached out when someone slapped it down, hard.

I stared at Anne, my eyes stinging.

"That's my ring."

She held up the receipt and the transfer record and pressed them against my face.

"Half of what's on there is mine. I have the right to decide where it goes."

"Giving it to you doesn't make it all yours."

Jackson stood behind him, holding his phone up, taking selfies.

The ring pressed to his cheek picked up the foundation caked on his skin, thick and greasy, and would never wipe clean again.

My chest heaved a few quick times.

"Fine."

"Then marry him."

But the moment I turned, the room in front of me spun.

I grabbed Anne's arm on instinct, and the next second I dropped into darkness.

When I came to again, everything in front of me was blinding white.

Mom and Dad stood at the edge of the bed, their eyes rimmed red.

I blinked, my voice coming out rough.

"What happened to me?"

Mom heard me and came over, taking my hand.

"The doctor said there's a mass on your kidney. You couldn't handle the strain of intense emotion, so you passed out."

My hand went to the small of my back.

No wonder I'd felt so worn down all through the wedding planning, no appetite either.

I'd thought it was just exhaustion.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

"Where's Anne?"

At the mention of her name, Dad's face went cold.

"Hmph. Probably just about wrapped up the wedding ceremony by now."

He handed me his phone. A wedding video was playing on the screen.

Under a sky full of drifting petals, Jackson was down on one knee, sliding the ring onto Anne's finger with a look of solemn devotion.

Back when we were mapping out the ceremony, I'd suggested a petal drop. She took one look at the price and waved it off.

"Terrible value for the money. Be rational. Don't pay for a moment's feeling."

Now Jackson tossed it out offhand, and she'd added it without blinking.

"Why is he the groom now?"

Dad couldn't hold it in and swore.

"Anne said the whole ceremony was already booked, no refunds."

"Jackson said since she'd never been married, they might as well have some fun with it."

By the end, he let out a sigh.

"She never had you in her heart at all!"

I lay there and felt my heartbeat climbing faster and faster. It was rage.

The door to the room swung open.

Anne and Jackson walked in, one after the other.

Before a single word was spoken, a payment slip was already being held out to me.

"I settled the exam fee on my way over."

"Four-oh-six total. Remember to transfer me two-thirty in a bit."

I lifted my eyes to her, trying to find some trace of who she used to be.

"Anne, I'm sick."

Her hand kept tapping the calculator. She didn't even glance up.

"I know. Since kidney health is connected to married life, that's exactly why I'm willing to cover half."

"Everything after this, the exams, the surgery, the recovery, all of it, we split fifty-fifty."

"Don't hire a nurse after the surgery. Have your mom take care of you. And don't buy too many supplements. Just enough to get by."

Beside me, Dad was breathing hard, the veins standing out on his arm.

I braced against the bed and pushed myself up to sit.

"Are we going to live like this for the rest of our lives?"

Jackson's gaze bored straight into me, the ring still sitting steady on his finger.

"Being sick isn't an excuse to go weak on us."

"A man is supposed to carry the weight of the household together with his wife"

I cut him off.

"I don't want to hear you. I want to hear Anne."

She finished the budget list and sent it to my phone.

"Jack's right. You can't just keep leaning on me forever."

I opened it and looked.

Every figure scraped the very bottom of what things could cost. Even the price of each strip of gauze had been split cleanly in two.

I unpinned Anne's chat from the top of my contacts, pressed the phone dark, and let myself sink back against the bed.

"Never mind. I'll cover all of it myself from now on."

Her hand paused. Surprise flickered in her eyes.

But she didn't refuse.

"If you think that's reasonable, then I have no objection."

Dad finally couldn't take it. He pointed at her and roared.

"Anne, are you even human?"

Mom stood up. Even-tempered as she always was, this time she was genuinely furious.

"When I handed my son over to you, you stood in front of us and swore you'd protect him for the rest of his life!"

Anne pressed her red lips together, her voice thick with impatience.

"Jack already said it, times have changed, and the way a husband and wife treat each other has to change too."

"Stop trying to hold me down with your old-fashioned ways."

She grabbed Jackson by the wrist, turned, and pushed out the door.

I pressed the call button at the head of the bed.

A nurse came in.

I braced myself against the wall and got out of bed.

"Can you book me for surgery right away?"

The surgery went smoothly.

Not once, all the way until they wheeled me back to my room, did Anne say a single word of worry.

The ceremony at the hotel still wasn't over.

Jackson had a livestream running from the floor, the title splashed across the top.

Helped a friend tame his bloodsucker boyfriend now we're taking on the world as real modern alpha men.

He held up the phone and clapped Anne on the shoulder.

"Babe, say hi."

Anne's brow creased.

"Don't say weird things."

But she still ducked her head, smiled, and gave the camera a little wave.

The comments were flying past underneath.

"Handsome guy, gorgeous girl, perfect match."

"Are you getting married today, streamer? Love the suit."

Jackson swung the phone in a full circle around the room, thrilled with himself.

"Let me give you all a look at my wedding."

I couldn't help it. My fingers moved fast and I fired off a comment.

"So this whole 'alpha man' thing just means climbing up by stealing another man's wife?"

The second it posted, a string of question marks trailed under it.

Jackson saw it. His expression didn't change at all. If anything, the smile in his eyes got wider.

"Some sour little chicken out here spreading lies, knock it off."

He pulled out two marriage certificates.

He flipped them open. In the photo inside, he and Anne beamed at the camera together.

The registration date on them was the day he came back to the country.

My hand jerked. The phone dropped to the floor and cracked.

My stomach turned over. I stumbled off the bed, hung over the sink, and threw up with tears running down my face.

No wonder Anne kept putting me off every time I brought up registering.

She always said we should hold the wedding first, that the only thing people cared about was what showed on the surface.

The two certificates, she said, nobody would give a second thought to.

So it turned out she'd already registered with someone else, long ago.

And now she'd gone and married him too, easy as that.

A few more messages popped up on the cracked screen.

Stop talking nonsense in Jack's stream.

The certificate thing I'll find time to explain it to you later.

Then Anne threw over a bill.

Since you said you'd cover the whole surgery, why haven't I gotten the transfer for this afternoon's payment yet?

I glanced at it and didn't reply.

Instead I lowered my head and made a call.

"Is everything ready?"

The answer came back fast. Yes.

My mother pushed the door open and gently wiped the sweat beading at my temple, hurting for me.

"Don't grieve over a person like that."

I shook my head. I was already completely calm.

"Never again."

Then I got up and started packing.

My stomach still ached with that dragging, sinking pain, a constant reminder of how absurd this whole day had been.

"Why the rush? Where are you going?"

"Home. To settle the accounts."

It wasn't until the small hours that Anne shoved open the door of our wedding home, drunk.

I was sitting on the sofa, a thick document envelope on the table in front of me.

She didn't notice. Her fingers tapped a few times at her phone screen.

"I sent you the balance list for the wedding."

"Don't forget to transfer me half."

I let out a soft laugh.

"Anne, only now do I realize you really have no shame."

She froze.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The next second, a phone started ringing, sharp and urgent.