…was sitting at the kitchen island, a freshly printed spreadsheet laid out perfectly in front of him. Next to it was a thick, black, spiral-bound binder.
He looked up, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “Perfect timing, babe. Come sit. We need to go over the onboarding.”
“Onboarding?” I echoed, setting the coffees down. My stomach did a strange, cold flip.
He patted the stool next to him. “Since I’m handling the financial burden of the lease, I took the liberty of mapping out the household responsibilities to keep things completely fair. A partnership, right?”
I opened the binder. The cover page read: Household Management & Domestic Duties.
I flipped through the pages, my vision blurring as the reality set in. Monday: deep clean bathrooms. Tuesday: grocery shopping and meal prep for his office lunches. Wednesday: iron his work clothes. It was itemized down to the minute. There was even a tab labeled Anticipated Childcare & Maternity Milestones.
“Matt, I work full-time too,” I reminded him, my voice barely above a whisper. “I work forty hours a week at the clinic. I can’t do all of this.”
He took a sip of his coffee, his expression shifting from warm to calculating. “You work at a nonprofit, honey. It’s basically a hobby compared to my hours. I’m the provider here,” he said smoothly, echoing his words from yesterday—only now, they didn’t sound romantic. They sounded like a trap. “If you want to live here rent-free, this is your contribution. Think of it as an internship for when you’re a stay-at-home mom.”
The plush towels I had just lovingly hung in the bathroom suddenly felt like a uniform. I looked at the photos of us smiling on the wall—photos of a girl who thought she was building a life with a partner, not signing a legally binding employment contract to be a live-in maid.
“The deposit is non-refundable, by the way,” he added, tapping the spreadsheet. “So let’s just get on the same page.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t scream. I just walked over to the living room wall, took our framed photos down, and placed them right back into the cardboard box.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his smug tone finally cracking.
“I’m resigning,” I said, grabbing my keys. “Find another intern.”
I was out the door before the coffee even got cold.
