The next morning, I made breakfast for myself and left nothing for David.
He opened the refrigerator and froze. Pink labels covered everything—eggs, milk, cheese, fruit, coffee, even the butter.
“Did you label the food?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said. “Separate finances mean we each use what we pay for.” I left for work while he ate dry bread and stared into the fridge like it had betrayed him-
