The Empty Refrigerator Chapter 1: Where Did My Money Go?

I had spent six months drifting across the ocean on a cargo ship, but I would send 20,000 dollars back home every month. So, I really only had one thing on my mind the day I finally set foot on solid ground again—my wife's pork rib soup.

When I pushed open the front door, I found my seven-month-pregnant wife, Sophia Merkin, sitting on our worn-out sofa.

At that moment, my six months' worth of exhaustion, frustration, and pent-up anger from the roiling life at sea surged to the surface.

"I've been busting my ass out there and working more than 10 hours a day. Yet, I don't even get a hot meal at home when I'm finally home?"

Sophia said nothing. Instead, she walked over to the refrigerator and yanked the door open.

That was when I saw that the fridge only had half a jar of ketchup and a bag of expired pasta with bugs.

Then, she asked me dully, "What do you want to eat? Take your pick."

* * *

My mind was filled with white noise as I stared hard at those wormy pasta.

"Is this what you've been eating?"

"What do you think?" Sophia leaned against the refrigerator door weakly, her face pale. "I'm seven months pregnant, so I can't find a job. Your mother said you're hard at work and told me to be more understanding."

Then, she picked up her phone from the coffee table, swiped a few times, and slid it in front of me.

"Look." Her voice was dry and hoarse.

Those were WhatsApp transfer records.

"Sender: Mom."

"Amount: 100.00."

"Date: The 1st of every month. Six months in a row."

"What is this?" I whispered in disbelief.

"This is the allowance your mom gives your son and me every month." Sophia tugged at the corner of her mouth. "100 dollars every month."

"That's impossible!" I instinctively retorted. "I transferred 20,000 to Mom's account every month! She told me you'd been craving expensive food during your pregnancy, and that just your tonic cost nearly 10,000 a month.

"She said that she was saving the rest for us as an education fund!"

Sophia didn't bother arguing with me upon hearing my words. Instead, she merely held onto the armrest of the sofa, bent down, dragged a battered plastic document pouch out from under the coffee table, and emptied it at my feet.

A pile of bills and notices scattered across the floor right then and there. They were property management overdue notices, unpaid water bills, electricity payment demands, and a gas shutoff warning.

The most glaring of all were several crumpled prenatal examination forms from the hospital.

"4D ultrasound: Unpaid."

"Glucose tolerance screening: Unpaid."

"Fetal heart monitoring: Unpaid."

"100 dollars," Sophia emphasized those words as she stared at me. "Logan, even the cheapest bunch of greens at the market costs five bucks. Tell me, how am I supposed to eat or pay for the baby's 4D ultrasound when I only have 100 dollars on me?"

It felt as though my throat had been stuffed with cotton. I couldn't make a sound.

I'd been out at sea for five years, but I would always transfer all of my salary to my mother, Bethy Moore, every single month the moment they came in.

I had risked my life in the storms for 1.2 million. Yet, my pregnant wife had been eating bug-infested pasta in the dead of winter and was unable to afford even her prenatal checkups.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I tried to reach out for Sophia's hand, but she jerked it away.

This time, there was a trace of emotion in her eyes, but it was filled with resentment.

"Tell you? You were at sea, and I hadn't heard from you for six months! How was I supposed to tell you?" As she spoke, she took a deep breath as tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and fell onto the floor.

"Logan, I can't take this anymore."

"I'm going to find her right now!" I gritted my teeth, took off the coat I was wearing, and draped it over her shoulders.

"Wait for me, Sophia. I'm getting that money back today. If I can't get it back, I don't deserve to call myself your husband."

Sophia didn't nod or even say anything. She simply pulled the coat tighter around herself and stared at me numbly.

I didn't dare to look her in the eye as I turned around and rushed out of the apartment.

Bethy didn't live in the run-down old residential complex where we lived.