It's about the fundamental dishonesty that made the affair possible. You've been lying to me about who you are and what you want for most of our marriage. Marcus is just the most visible symptom of a much deeper disease. I pulled one more document from the envelope, the last one. This is an amendment to our divorce agreement.
In addition to the 50/50 asset split, I'm requesting reimbursement for all fertility related expenses from the past year. Doctor's visits, medications, treatments, everything we spent trying to conceive a child that you were actively preventing. It comes to about $12,000. She stared at the paper. You're billing me for trying to have a baby.
I'm billing you for lying about trying to have a baby. There's a difference. This is She laughed a broken sound. This is insane. This is vindictive and petty and it's fair.
I interrupted. You used our joint funds to pursue an affair. I'm asking you to reimburse me for funds I spent based on your lies. If you think that's unreasonable, we can let a judge decide. I'm sure they'll be very interested in hearing about how you defrauded your husband regarding fertility treatments while conducting an extrammarital affair.
She looked at me with something like hatred. You've really thought of everything, haven't you? Every anger, every punishment, every way to make me suffer. I've thought about the truth and the cost of hiding it. I stood up again, walked to the window, looked out at the fog, shrouded street.
You can pack your things now. Take whatever you want. Furniture, photos, kitchen stuff. I don't care. I'll have my lawyer send over the amended agreement.
You have a week to review it before I file. And if I don't sign, then we go to court. I present all of this to a judge. The affair, the landlas, the birth control, deception, all of it. And I let them decide how to divide our assets.
But I promise you, Rachel, it won't be 50/50. Not when fraud is involved. She gathered up the papers with shaking hands, stuffed them back into the envelope. I came here to pick up my things, not to be ambushed with. You ambushed me with six months of betrayal.
I ambushed you with one morning of truth. I think I'm being generous with the ratio. She stood, grabbed her purse, started toward the stairs, then stopped, and turned back. For what it's worth, I really did think I'd change my mind about wanting kids. I really did think that maybe if we kept trying, I'd wake up one day and feel ready.