The Cold Morning

Chapter One: Denied Salary

The scent of baby lotion and warm clothes filled the nursery as Alex’s roar tore through the hallway.

“Lily!”

I just spent nearly an hour finally getting Cheryl to sleep. Her little fists were still clutching the edge of the light yellow blanket, and the weak nightlight cast a soft halo next to the crib.

Then my husband started stomping around the house.

“Lily, where are you?”

Cheryl shivered with fear. She opened her eyes. Then, the crying started. I lifted her into my arms and walked into the hallway.

“Keep your voice down, you woke her up.”

Alex stood by the living room window, wearing his blue work shirt and steel-toed boots. The glass window behind him was beaten hard by the rain, and the small American flag on the porch was flapping in the strong wind.

His face turned red. The phone was clutched tightly in his hand.

“What did you do to the payroll card?”

“What card?”

“Stop playing dumb with me. My mom just called.”

I patted Cheryl gently.

“What happened?”

“She tried to withdraw your paycheck, but the ATM declined the card.”

The truth stood plainly between us. Not rent. Not grocery money. Not the electric bill. But my salary. For three years, Alex’s mother, Marilyn, carried a debit card that was linked directly to the account into which my paycheck was deposited.

She calls it family pocket money.

Every payday, she would pick up what she called “the family’s money.”

Sometimes it was eight hundred dollars a month. Sometimes she almost emptied the entire amount.

She used the money to buy anti-aging creams, lunch at fancy restaurants, shoes, gifts for friends, and even pay for hotel rooms on weekends she described euphemistically as “a must for total relaxation.”

And Alex would turn around and ask me why I couldn’t even afford diapers.

I always choose to hold back, because every rebuttal will eventually turn into a long discussion about “gratitude”.

Marilyn occasionally helped babysit Cheryl. Marilyn will cook dinner on Sunday. Marilyn raised Alex on her own. Marilyn made a huge sacrifice. The conclusion is always the same.

The proceeds of my labor deserve to belong to this family because her “sacrifice” created the man I married.

“I changed my account,” I said.

Alex blinked.

“What?”

“My paycheck went into a new account.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my money.”

His expression changed, as if I was speaking some alien language.

“Your money is your family’s money.”

“Then why don’t you put your salary into this account too?”

“I have other expenses to pay.”

“What expenses?”

“You know what the expenses are.”

“I don’t know.”

He stalked closer.

“Where’s the new card?”

“In my pocket.”

Cheryl cried harder. I turned and walked toward the nursery.

“Let’s not argue in front of this kid.”

“You started it.”

“I just changed my payroll account, that doesn’t mean you can yell at me.”

“Mom is standing in front of the ATM like a fool.”

“It does sound awkward.”

“Her friends are waiting for her.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Shopping.”

I stared at him. Marilyn had already figured out how to spend my new salary before I even got it. Two days ago, the company just promoted me to Key Account Manager. This position meant a 30 percent salary increase, performance bonuses every quarter, and a pension supplement that I had worked hard for six months to finally earn.

Alex knew nothing about it. Marilyn didn’t know anything either. For these six months, I had to respond to clients’ WeChat messages in the laundry room, type work reports at two o’clock in the middle of the night, and stand by the sink nibbling cold toast while Cheryl was sleeping on my chest.

For the first time, only my name was written on this return.

“I got a promotion,” I said.

The anger on Alex’s face paused.

“Promotion?”

“Yes.”

“How much has it increased?”

“That’s not the point.”

“How much has it gone up, Lily?”

“Thirty percent.”

For a second, he had a look of appreciation on his face. Then, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You hid a raise behind my back.”

“I haven’t had time to announce it yet.”

“You do have time to change your salary account.”

“Yes.”

“So this was planned.”

I carried Cheryl into the nursery and placed her gently in her crib. Her face was red from crying. I put a hand on her belly until her breathing stabilized. Alex followed into the room.

“Hand over the card.”

“No.”

His reflection was reflected in the nursery window.

“Mom has always been responsible for managing the family’s finances.”

“Your mother is squandering my salary.”

“She’s helping us.”

“She scraped it clean before we could use it.”

“That’s how we’ve always lived.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right.”

He advanced toward me.

“Where is it stuck?”

“In my pocket.”

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

My voice is very soft. But it’s like a locked key. Alex’s expression completely changed.

“You have forgotten your duty.”

A laugh almost escaped me. Not because it’s funny. It’s because after three years of marriage, he finally took off those gentle disguises. Not a partner. Not a compromise. But duty.

“Stay away from the crib,” I said.

He glanced at Cheryl. Then he looked at me again.

“Hand over the card and this matter will end.”

“Whether you can get it or not, this matter has already turned over.”

He thrust out his hand. His fingers seized the hair on my scalp and pushed me hard against the wall next to the nursery window. A sharp pain hit his forehead. I grabbed his forearm.

Cheryl burst into tears in her crib.

“Why was the card rejected?” he shouted hysterically, “Mom didn’t get your salary at all!”

He pointed to the bank documents I left on the dresser. Then, he increased his strength on his hands. My eyes filled with tears. But beneath the fear, a colder quality emerged. Sober. This was the first time I could truly see clearly the expectations in his heart.

He thought I would apologize. He thought I would obediently hand over my bank card. He thought the pain would make me give in to past patterns. Alex reached into the pocket of my jeans.

I clasped his wrist tightly with both hands, twisted it hard, and pressed his arm hard against the edge of the dressing table. He painfully let go of his hand holding my hair. I stepped between him and the nursery door.

My scalp burned. My face is wet. But I didn’t lower my eyes.

“Because my paycheck doesn’t belong to her anymore.”

Alex regained his composure and pounced frantically again.

“Hand over the new card.”

I put one hand on his chest.

“No.”

I slowly took the card out of my pocket. His eyes were fixed on it. I didn’t hand it over, but clenched my fist tightly and held the card close to my chest. He reached for my hand.

I waved his fingers away.

“No,” I said, “I finally figured out who made the money.”

His phone vibrated wildly on the dresser. He glanced at the screen. 【Mom】 The phone was hung up. Then the call came in immediately. [First Pacific Bank - Security Department] Alex stared at the screen. Then, a third call popped up.

【Martin & Klein Legal Services】 The blood on his face began to fade inch by inch. I looked up from my phone screen and looked at him.

“And, this card was just the first thing I changed.”