By the fifth week of my marriage, the requests for money had become routine. Norma said the utility bills were higher, groceries cost more, and the gutters needed repairs. Each request sounded reasonable on its own, so I paid without argument.
But I started keeping a notebook, and the numbers told a different story. In just seven weeks, I had contributed more money to that house than Daniel and Norma combined. The problem was simple: it was not my house.
During my lunch break one Thursday, I visited the county recorder’s office and pulled the property records myself. The deed listed only Daniel and Norma as owners. My name was nowhere on it.
I sat in my car holding the paperwork, trying to ignore the feeling growing in my stomach. For the first time, I wondered if I had misunderstood my marriage entirely-
