Part 2Love Has Become a Dilemma

"Joanna, aren't you and your mother just after my family's money?"

The mocking voice overlapped with the memory, still hitting me hard a year later. Tears fell onto the dining table. When I came back to myself, the call had already ended. My bank account showed a transfer of fifteen thousand dollars, along with a voice message from Danny.

"Five thousand for meals, ten thousand for your errand fee. Chloe left a bra strap in the sofa cushion. Find it and bring it to her when Arthur gets to work."

Moving aside the matching throw pillows, I found the black bra strap in the crevice. The sofa was one Danny and I had picked out together at the furniture store. The moment I saw it, I loved it. Danny tested its firmness and softness, smiling as he agreed. "The size is perfect. I'll even ask for extra throw pillows so we'll be more comfortable." Lovers, in the throes of passion, often speak with double meanings. I playfully chided him, and he laughed. That's how we picked out one item after another, decorating the home in our hearts.

But now, looking at the things I had carefully chosen, and seeing them in the same space as him and another woman, I felt only repulsion and sickness. Since I was leaving, I might as well throw everything away.

From dawn until dusk, I packed. Eight years of love transformed into five boxes of junk and one suitcase. Only after triple-checking that nothing of mine remained in the house did the unsettling feeling finally subside. Now, only one last item remained.

I pulled out a photo album from the bedside drawer. Inside, two hundred seventy-nine photos had been torn to shreds, then painstakingly taped back together. From after our high school graduation to college, then living together and working, the photo paper chronicled my entire youth with Danny. The last photo was from New Year's Eve last year, where we raised our glasses, celebrating seven years together under the fireworks.

Three days after that photo was taken, Arthur, who had been widowed for years, and my mother, divorced for years, announced at dinner that they wanted to spend their lives together. Danny’s face remained impassive, indicating his approval. I, too, was happy for them. But back in our home, he tore the photos and threw them at me, screaming. "Joanna, you and your mother are both equally shameless. Aren't you just after my family's money? And you talk about 'adding to the family'? How disgusting!"

I stood there, bewildered, watching him vent his rage, helpless. Danny and I had learned the news at the same time. I thought he had truly accepted it. I carefully removed all the photos, tearing them along the same delicate lines I had once meticulously re-glued, and tossed them into the pile of junk.