I am Nora. My husband Henry and I rarely went on date nights before marriage.
We both have high-paying jobs, so I thought our routine of watching movies with pizza was dictated by our wish to be at home rather than by money.
Yesterday was my 40th birthday, and Henry invited me and my parents to celebrate it at an upscale restaurant.
When it was time to pay the $1100 bill, my and my parents’ jaws dropped when Henry said “Hey darling! It’s your birthday, so I thought you’d want to pay.
I didn’t bring my wallet with me.”
At the time, I thought he was joking so I laughed a little. But he kept his gaze steady on me, his lips curled in that soft, unwavering smile.
He still smiled. “Come on, Nora.
You’re always saying you’re ‘independent.’ I thought you’d want the chance to show it.”. He continued, “I thought you wouldn’t mind. You’re always saying you enjoy treating yourself on your birthday, right?”
My parents went silent, looking between Henry and me.
Meanwhile, I felt my cheeks burn and the embarrassment rising in my chest. My dad’s face turned dark, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Henry.
“Henry, you invited us to dinner. For Nora’s birthday.
You’re simply going to sit here and let her pay?”
Henry’s smile faltered, just a bit. “Oh, come on. It’s just a birthday meal.
We both know Nora’s more than capable. She’s got that fancy pediatrician salary.”
I just wanted to disappear right then and there. I shot him a glare, “Henry, this is… embarrassing.
You’ve got to be kidding.”
But he just sipped the last of his champagne with that casual indifference. “Look, if it’s such a big deal, I’ll pay you back at home.”
My dad didn’t let it slide. “Unbelievable.
Not even a gift? This was it?”
I wanted to cry and shout. But more than anything, I wanted to understand what I had missed about this man.
I paid the bill, gripping my card a little too hard, my stomach in knots.
Coming back home, I finally confronted him. “Henry, what was that about? Why would you put me on the spot like that?”
“Oh, come on, Nora,” he said.
“You’re making this way bigger than it is. We share finances. What difference does it make?”
“The difference,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady, “is that it’s about respect.
It’s about valuing me, especially on a night that’s supposed to be special.”
His voice was laced with impatience. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. I forgot my wallet.
You could’ve laughed it off. It wasn’t supposed to be an attack on your precious ego.”
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