“What does it feel like to be completely useless?”…

I remember one evening, about a year into this new arrangement, Iris kissed my cheek after a lovely dinner I had paid for at a nice bistro downtown. Caden had ordered another round of cocktails without glancing at the prices. My card had disappeared into the leather check presenter and come back with a little slip for me to sign and tuck away.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Iris whispered against my skin, smiling for a passing waiter. Her tone was light, affectionate, but underneath it was something else. Not gratitude.

Not awe. It sounded more like a simple truth, a reminder of my function in their story. A quiet, chilling confirmation of my role.

That was the night I started printing everything out. The bank notifications. The transfer confirmations.

Every piece of paper that told the story of my silent contributions. I slid them into clear plastic sleeves and filed them away in a thick manila folder in the bottom drawer of my office cabinet. It didn’t feel vindictive.