I didn't touch dinner that night.

Vivian came over and started lecturing me again, going through the same old logic about saving while we were young, only spending on what was necessary at the grocery store, and cutting out everything else.

I'd had enough. I shut my eyes, rose to my feet, and stormed straight into the bathroom. That was when my salary hit my account.

For the first time, I didn't transfer it to her immediately. I simply stared at the number on the screen. That money was enough for a decent set of clothes, a proper backpack, and even a solid gaming setup if I wanted it.

Because I had been handing all my money over to Vivian every month, I was still wearing the same clothes I had worn back in school—ones that hadn't completely worn out yet.

My backpack was a cheap canvas one worth barely 20 dollars. Even my so-called entertainment was just sitting at home doing nothing.

A sudden sense of emptiness hit me. I started to wonder what the point of all these years of working so hard and earning money even was.

The bathroom door was pushed open. Vivian leaned against the frame and looked at me. "You usually get paid around this time every month. Why haven't you transferred the money yet?"

"I won't. What are you going to do about it?"

I looked up and met her calculating gaze. A wave of nausea rose in me.

"What do you mean, what am I going to do?" she asked. "I've been managing it for you. It's not like I spent it. Why won't you transfer it?"

There it was, the entitlement that came from getting so used to receiving.

"It's almost New Year's. I want to buy some new clothes," I said.

"You need your salary for that?" she countered with a scoff. "Look at you. You don't need something that expensive. Transfer the money first. When you actually buy them, I'll give you the money."

I walked out of the bathroom. She followed behind me, still talking incessantly. It felt as if I wouldn't make it to the next day if I didn't hand over my salary right then and there.

I froze for a second, then hardened my tone. "I'm going to start managing my own salary."

Vivian immediately panicked, stepping right up to me. "You're reckless with money and can't save anything on your own. With me controlling it, it's safe, at least. If I leave the money to you, we'll both end up broke!"

I let out a bitter laugh. "How am I reckless when I only have 300 dollars to spend every month?"

For a moment, she looked caught off guard, perhaps due to guilt. Then, an urgent call broke the silence.

It was Vivian's younger sister, Janine Spencer, who needed 500 thousand dollars for a down payment on a house. It was urgent, and the money had to be transferred immediately.

I watched as Vivian unlocked her phone. The moment her finger touched the screen, I knocked the phone out of her hand. "Did I say I agreed to lend her the money?"

She gave a cold laugh. "That's my savings, not yours. I didn't touch your money. Besides, we already lent your portion to Brian!"

How ridiculous. Her sister could get half a million instantly, without even discussing it with me, but when it came to my brother, we had to go through a huge fight and giving each other the cold shoulder. Why?

"Tell Janine to call me. If I agree, you can transfer it."

Vivian's anger became visible. "What's this? Is this even necessary? You're pushing your luck!"

She bent down to pick up the phone from the floor. I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and rushed back toward her, shouting, "I said she only gets the money if I agree!"

A sharp slap landed across my face. In the next second, the knife was snatched out of my hand.

Vivian glared at me. "I'm giving my sister money, and you don't get a say in it!"

I stood there, numb, touching my cheek. For the first time, I seriously thought about leaving. Without another word, I grabbed my phone and bolted out the door.

Behind me, Vivian screamed, "You've got one minute to transfer your salary!"

I looked back at her, still standing there with her head down, trying to make the transfer. Something inside me burned.

From then on, I wouldn't let her take another penny from me.

Not even five minutes after I left, Vivian started calling me nonstop. I hung up once, and she called again. She persistently dialed as if it were a real emergency.

My phone was down to 5% battery. In the end, I had no choice but to pick up.

"Where are you?" she asked furiously. Before I could answer, she cut in again. "I told you to transfer your salary within a minute. Why didn't you do it?"

It was late at night. One would think her first question would be whether I was safe or where I was. Instead, all she cared about was the money. I hadn't realized how obsessed she was with it until then.

I didn't waste any more words on her and hung up. After finding a chain hotel, I checked in. The moment I lay down, Vivian called again. This time, I tossed the phone aside and let it ring until the battery finally died.

All night, my mind kept replaying everything she had ever said.

She once talked about traveling around the country with me, yet we never even planned a single trip. She once said we would get a villa one day, yet our marital home didn't even have my name on it.

That night, I barely caught a wink.

When I went home the next morning with dark circles under my eyes, Vivian was already waiting at the door. She stopped me from entering.

"Why didn't you send me the money? And where were you last night?"

I pushed past her and sank weakly onto the couch. "Let's talk…"

My eyes landed on our wedding photo. The irony of it hit me all at once.

Other couples spent thousands of dollars on photography packages, polished studios, and coordinated outfits. We just walked into a random photo studio and took two shots. Even my suit was borrowed from her older brother.

Back then, I always told myself the same thing. Her family didn't have much money, so we had to save where we could.

Vivian walked over and sat beside me, her expression dark as she asked, "You think 300 dollars a month is too little for you. Is that it?"

Too little? It was practically pocket change.

"In the countryside, my parents don't even spend 50 dollars a month. What you have is six times that. So, what exactly are you unhappy about?" she asked self-righteously.

"Besides, I'm not saving money for myself, but for our family. How could you throw a tantrum and not come home all night because of that?"

A humorless smile tugged at my lips. "I earn over ten thousand dollars a month, yet I'm living worse than I did as a student. So, tell me, what exactly am I getting out of this? And what makes you think I have to scrimp along with you?"

Vivian stared at me blankly, her expression darkening bit by bit. "You've changed. You're getting cocky because you earn more now."

"Cocky my ass," I spat out. "From now on, I'm not giving you my salary anymore."

She shot up instantly and kicked over a small stool beside her. Then she started venting, listing all the sacrifices she claimed she had made for our family, like how she kept wearing worn-out clothes even after starting her job and refused to buy new ones just to save money.

But what did any of that have to do with me? I never told her not to buy them in the first place.

After the stalemate, Vivian paced back and forth in the living room. "Fine. From now on, I'll let you have 700 dollars. I'll save the rest for us."

"I said I'm not giving you my salary anymore," I repeated. "Don't you understand?"

Vivian stared at me with those deep, unreadable eyes for a long moment. Then, she said something that made me freeze in place. "In that case, start paying rent. This place is mine, after all."

With that, she turned around and left for work, leaving me standing alone in the messy living room.

In her rush, Vivian had left her phone behind. Suddenly, the screen lit up with a message that hit me like a punch. It was a transfer notification from the bank.

It turned out her monthly salary was 50 thousand dollars.

That was how much she made, huh?