For her.
For the way she is pushing to live inside this arrangement without losing herself.
I tell myself it’s necessary.
That if she’s going to be my wife in public, she needs protection in private.
But the truth is messier.
The truth is I don’t want to trap her.
And I don’t want anyone else to have her.
Both can be true.
That’s the problem.
At 1:17 p.m., I received another message from Lucy. She is upset that I have not yet removed the compensation package from the adjusted agreement.
Lucy:Remove the bonus structure. I won’t accept money for years stayed married or children conceived. Cover my mother’s care. Cover Emily’s schooling. Provide an account for necessities if you insist. That’s it. This is not something I am willing to budge on, Julian.
I type before I can think.
Julian:The bonuses are not payment. They’re structure. Protection. Security.
Julian:If you walk away after three years, you will still have something.
Lucy:I won’t be rewarded for staying in something I might want to or need to leave.
Lucy:And I won’t be paid per child like I’m livestock.
The heat that rises in me is immediate.
Not at her.
At myself.
Because I wrote it.
Because some part of me thought that was normal.
Because my father would have called it generous.
I stare at her message until my eyes burn.
Then I rewrite the section entirely.
I replace it with what she asked for.
A personal discretionary account in her name, not tied to “performance,” funded monthly, with clear language: clothing, personal care, incidental needs, personal travel, emergencies.
No approval required.
No reporting.
No humiliation.
I send it back.
