Marriage on a Chip

The hospital's disinfectant smell stabbed my nostrils like needles. Victoria Bennett sat on the bench outside the ward, her eyes red and swollen. "My mom's been in the hospital for half a month, and you've only been here three times." Her voice shook ever so slightly. I gripped the briefcase tightly, my fingertips white from the pressure. "The company's been really busy lately. Projects are piling up." "Busy is no excuse." Victoria looked up, her eyes full of disappointment. "My dad died young; it wasn't easy for my mom to raise me alone." "Now she's lying in the hospital bed, without a person to bring her water or help clean her." I stayed silent, feeling a knot tighten inside. My mother-in-law's illness means she has to stay bedridden for a long time, with someone needed to care for everything—feeding, drinking, even bathroom needs. Just thinking about those trivial, private moments makes me feel so uncomfortable. "I understand you don't want to get involved." Victoria Bennett took a deep breath, as if making a major decision, "Then we'll go with the 'Marriage filial Go Dutch system.'" "What does that mean?" I was dumbfounded. "It's simple." Victoria's tone was unusually calm, "In marriage, the filial piety we give to our own parents has to be equal." "The way you treat my mom is how I'll treat your parents; all the extra efforts I made for your parents, you need to repay." I frowned: "How do you define extra efforts?" "In these ten years of marriage, who bought your parents' seasonal clothes?" Victoria Bennett counted on her fingers, "When they were sick and hospitalized, who served tea, poured water, and stayed up all night caring for them?" "When you were on business trips, who cleaned the house weekly and delivered vegetables and fruits?" Each question felt like a slap in the face, hitting me hard. All these things, indeed, were done by Victoria Bennett. I've always felt that married couples don't need to split things so precisely. "Isn't that all something you chose to do yourself?" I tried to explain. "Choosing to do something doesn't mean it's justified." Victoria's eyes turned cold. "I pour my heart out for your parents, yet when my mom needs someone, you stay far away. Is that fair?" "I can hire a caregiver." I said. "The caregiver's fees have to come out of our marital shared property." Victoria shot back, "And filial piety isn't something money can buy." "What I want is equal companionship and effort—a one-to-one standard." I looked into her determined eyes and knew she wasn't joking. "Let me think about it." I stood up, wanting nothing more than to get out of that suffocating place. Back at work, I couldn't focus on anything. My mind kept replaying Victoria's words and the image of my mother-in-law lying in that hospital bed. I admit, over the years I've really shortchanged Victoria, and I've let my mother-in-law down, too. But to care for my mother-in-law the way Victoria cares for her own parents—I just can't do it. A few days later, my mom suddenly called me, her voice weak: "Sean, I'm feeling really dizzy. It might be my high blood pressure acting up." My heart tightened, and I immediately took leave to rush back home. I took my mom to the hospital for a check-up; the doctor said she needed to be admitted for a few days of observation. "Mom, just rest easy and stay here. I'll be right here with you, taking care of you these days." I said, holding my mom's hand. That night, I messaged Victoria, told her about my mom being hospitalized, and asked if she could come over to help.