My smile disappeared.
“What are you talking about?”
“You got a five-thousand-dollar surgery.”
I waited for him to grin.
He didn’t.
“So now I get to spend $5,000 on something I want.”
I stared at him.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious.”
I pushed the phone toward him.
“Gerald, my surgery wasn’t some luxury purchase.”
“You still spent the money.”
“To fix years of chronic pain.”
“You also changed your appearance.”
“I changed my appearance because my body was hurting.”
He shrugged. “That’s your perspective.”
My stomach tightened.
“My perspective?”
“Lyla, plenty of women pay thousands to make their breasts bigger.”
“And I paid to stop living in pain.”
“You still had cosmetic surgery.”
“No, I had medically recommended surgery.”
“It changed how you look.”
“It changed how I feel.”
He sighed as though I were refusing to understand something obvious.
“I’m just saying marriage should be equal.”
“It is equal.”
“No, it isn’t.”
He tapped the clinic’s website.
“If you get to improve something about yourself, then I should get to improve something about myself.”
I studied him, trying to understand how this conversation was happening.
“What exactly do you want?”
“A hair transplant.”
I blinked.
“A hair transplant?”
“I’ve been researching them for months.”
“Months?”
He nodded.
“I already know which clinic I want.”
Something inside me shifted.
“You’ve been planning this?”
“I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity.”
A chill went through me.
“The right opportunity?”
NEXT PAGE
