My husband asked me to give my job to his first love.

Six months ago, Mark told me the factory was struggling, and our monthly food and meat stamps were cut drastically. I believed him.

Then one day, I saw him pocket most of his paycheck and stamps right after payday and take them to his friend’s widow. I blew up, but he just said coldly, "Because of your outburst, she lost her job. Go home and think about what you’ve done."

And then, he got her a job at the factory… my job.

Now, I work my tail off day and night, selling socks at a street stall. People ask me why I'm working so hard. "Because I want to see the world," I reply casually.

Mark looked up sharply at me.

"Oh, not at the factory today?"

"Oops, look at my big mouth! Gotta go, gotta go!"

Neighbors would stop by my doorway, offering these loaded greetings. Ever since Mark, my own husband, had me fired and replaced with Sarah Jensen, the whole neighborhood knew about it. Their looks had changed from pity to something like… amusement. I set down my jar of pickled bamboo shoots and slammed the door shut.

That night, Mark came home and, as usual, placed the measly pile of food and meat stamps on the table.

"They also gave out half a pound of sugar. Put that away later," he said, his voice cool and distant.

I used to thrill at the sound of his voice. Now, looking at his handsome profile, I felt nothing. Maybe I was just tired.

I straightened up, my back aching, and went to the kitchen to cook dinner. He followed, taking off his jacket, ready to help as always. I paused, my hand on the wok. Who would guess that this steel mill office manager transformed into a tender, loving husband after work? I used to think I’d hit the jackpot marrying him.

But then I saw the gray shirt he was wearing under his jacket. It wasn't one I bought. My hand trembled, gripping the spatula. I blinked back tears, telling myself not to cry. But the spatula clattered to the floor, and I fled the kitchen. Mark glanced at me, then picked up the spatula and continued cooking.

"I added chili to this one, your favorite. Eat up," he said, taking off his apron and even serving me a bowl of rice. The perfect husband.

If I hadn't seen him give most of his salary away. If he hadn't fired me on a flimsy pretext and given my job to her. If he hadn't abandoned me when I had a fever to spend the night with her and her daughter… I would never have believed it was the same man.

I took a deep breath. I told myself, the job's gone, this man doesn’t care about you. Let it go. Wallowing in self-pity wasn't going to get me anywhere. I needed to find a way to survive. Mark used to be my whole world. But from now on, I was living for myself.

With that decided, I devoured my dinner and went to our room to check our supplies. No job, and a husband who gave most of his money to another woman… I needed to know exactly what I had left. I couldn't starve. I finished my meal, absentmindedly, and washed the dishes. Of course, I couldn't go through our finances with Mark around. But that w...