My Birthday Bill Is Finally Due Chapter 1

It was midnight when my phone finally lit up.

I stared at the screen, my heart doing a nervous little flutter-kick in my chest.

“Dear Ms. Sharon Chan, wishing you a happy 28th birthday! Your account balance is $328.51.”

It was just the bank app.

I waited five more minutes, then ten, then thirty.

The phone stayed silent.

My boyfriend of three years, Ryan Jared, had texted earlier, claiming his flight was delayed due to a business trip, and he’d call as soon as he landed.

My mom called last week: “Your brother needs $10,000 for the engagement, wire it over.”

I said okay, and she hung up.

My best friend, Maya Lin, posted on Instagram today: “Busy but fulfilling day!” The picture was a dozen perfect red roses.

I flipped the phone face-down on the table.

$328 was my total worth for the rest of the month.

I’d given $300,000 for my brother’s down payment, $100,000 for his engagement, and God knows how much more over the last three years to fill various holes.

Suddenly, I felt like there was nothing to celebrate on my 28th birthday.

But that’s fine.

I opened my laptop and pulled up a specific folder.

Three years. It was time for me to collect my own debts.

* * *

Ryan’s flight delay was a lie.

I’d known for a while.

Because he hadn’t bought a plane ticket; he’d bought a train ticket.

The order confirmation was pushed to my email late last night. We shared a joint rewards account. He’d forgotten to log out.

The destination? A five-star hotel right here in the city.

A “three-day business trip,” and the hotel was twenty miles away from our office.

I didn’t confront him.

I just wanted to see who he was spending his weekend with.

At one in the morning, I lay in bed, wide awake.

Staring at the ceiling, I drifted back through the past three years.

Ryan was a senior from my college, now my co-worker.

“Sharon, I’ve been watching you for a long time.”

Back then, I thought he was kind, thoughtful, and ambitious.

He told me, “Let’s work hard together. We’ll buy a house and get married before we turn thirty.”

I believed him.

My salary wasn’t high, but I saved every penny. I’d squirreled away eighty thousand over three years.

I gave it all to him.

He said it was for a stock market investment that tanked.

He said it was for a startup that went belly-up.

He said it was the down payment for a car that was stolen.

I never questioned him.

Because every time, he’d say, “Baby, when I make it big, I’ll pay you back tenfold.”

I didn’t need tenfold.

I just needed him to remember my birthday.

At two in the morning, I messaged him: “Did you land?”

No reply.

Three in the morning: “Are you asleep?”

Read, but ignored.

He’d walked 12,876 steps today.

A flight delay, stuck at the airport?

Could you really walk twelve thousand steps in a terminal?

I laughed.

It was the first time I truly felt like an idiot.

Five in the morning, I finally got his reply.

“Just landed. So exhausted. Talk tomorrow, get some sleep.”

Attached was a photo of a hotel room.

The curtains were drawn tight.

But I still saw it.

There was a bouquet of flowers on the nightstand.

Red roses.

The exact same ones from Maya’s Instagram post today.