“The Final Bill”

At first, I thought my husband, Kevin, was just frugal. Splitting bills based on usage? Fine. Fair, even. But then it spiraled into absurdity.

He wouldn’t pay for the almond milk I used in my coffee. If I bought yogurt for breakfast, that was *my* expense, even though he regularly drank my orange juice without a second thought.

Then came the household supplies. *“Why should I pay for dish soap if I don’t wash as many dishes?”* he argued. *“You clean more, so you use more sponges. That’s on you.”*

I laughed the first time he said it, thinking he was joking. He wasn’t.

At first, I covered the extra costs just to avoid another exhausting debate. But every month, the balance tilted further in his favor.

The last straw came when the power bill arrived.

Kevin handed me the envelope with a smug smile. *“I did some calculations,”* he said, flipping open a spreadsheet on his phone. *“Since you work from home, you use more electricity—WiFi, lights, air conditioning. So, I’ll only be covering 40% this month.”*

I stared at him. *“You’re joking.”*

*“Nope. Fair is fair.”*

Something inside me snapped. I took a deep breath, walked over to the WiFi router, and unplugged it.

*“Hey! What are you doing?”*

I crossed my arms. *“Since I *pay* for the WiFi, and you don’t use it as much, you don’t get access. Fair is fair.”*

His jaw dropped.

I kept going. *“Also, since I do more cleaning and you don’t contribute to supplies, you can do your own laundry from now on. Oh, and don’t touch anything in the fridge that I paid for. Wouldn’t want to mess up the balance.”*

Kevin stammered, *“That’s not—”*

I cut him off. *“Nope. We’re doing things your way.”*

For a week, I stuck to the new system. He had no WiFi, no clean clothes, and quickly realized that eating only *his* groceries meant a sad diet of eggs and crackers.

By the end of the week, he caved. *“Alright, alright,”* he grumbled. *“Maybe we should go back to splitting things evenly.”*

I smiled sweetly. *“Now *that* sounds fair.”*