« Who is Markus? » asked Peter, Brigitte’s husband.
She hastily turned her phone over, screen against the table.
— It’s for work. I’ll call back later.
But Peter was already looking at her in a completely different light.
— What job, Brigitte? You resigned three months ago.
A silence fell around the table.
Thomas took the printed document.
— Emma, explain yourself clearly. You gave almost five thousand euros to my sister without telling me?
— Because she asked me not to tell anyone. She said that you and Peter would argue if you found out she had debts.
Peter turned slowly towards his wife.
— What debts?
Brigitte gave a nervous laugh.
— My God, are you really going to interrogate me over a money matter? I’ll pay it all back!
— When? I asked.
— When I can!
— You promised to pay me back last month.
She made an annoyed gesture with her hand.
— You’re not going to end up on the street for that! You and Thomas have everything!
I looked at my husband.
He remained silent, his eyes fixed on the bank statement.
Meanwhile, Peter noticed that Brigitte’s phone had started ringing again.
— Markus is calling again. You’re still not going to answer?
— Don’t touch my phone!
She grabbed it so abruptly that she knocked over her glass.
The red wine spilled onto the white tablecloth.
My mother-in-law raised her hands, frightened.
— Brigitte, what’s wrong with you?
But Peter had already stood up.
— I think I’m starting to understand.
He turned towards me.
— Emma, you said that Brigitte borrowed money from you to repay a loan?
— Yes. And to pay the housing bills.
Peter gave a bitter smile.
— We have no outstanding debts. And I pay all the apartment bills myself.
Brigitte buried her face in her hands.
A few minutes later, we discovered that Markus was a former colleague of Brigitte’s.
Six months earlier, they had decided to open a small online women’s clothing store.
Brigitte had invested part of the household savings in this venture without telling her husband.
The company had almost immediately begun to lose money.
To conceal the losses, she had started borrowing money from acquaintances.
Then she turned towards me.
— And the fur coat? I asked.
Brigitte looked away.
— I bought it on credit.
— So you don’t have money to pay off your debts, but you found some for a fur coat?
She stood up abruptly.
— Are you going to humiliate me much longer?! You organized all of this on purpose!
I looked at the grey mop in its gift box.
— No, Brigitte. I had planned to talk to you after the party. But you had so much fun making fun of me today that I decided not to wait any longer.
Thomas finally raised his head.
— Emma, why did you have to do that in front of everyone?
I thought I had misheard.
— Are you serious?
— You could have settled this quietly.
— And giving your wife a mop in front of the whole family, is that normal?
He shrugged.
— It was just a joke.
— A joke, Thomas, is when both people find it funny.
Against all odds, my mother-in-law came to my defense.
— My son, Emma is right. You behaved very badly today.
But my husband dismissed her words with an annoyed gesture.
— Mom, please don’t get involved.
The guests left soon afterward.
Peter left alone, after telling Brigitte that they were going to have to have a serious discussion.
As she left the house, she called out to me:
— I hope you’re happy. You destroyed my family.
I didn’t reply.
When the door closed, Thomas returned to the kitchen.
— So, did you get what you wanted?
I continued clearing the plates in silence.
— Emma, I’m talking to you!
— I can hear you.
— Because of you, everyone is going to end up arguing.
I placed a plate on the table.
— Thomas, have you ever once thought about how I felt today?
He sighed.
— My God, that mop again! I’ll buy you some flowers tomorrow if you insist.
And it was precisely at that moment that I understood something very simple.
The problem wasn’t the gift.
Not money.
Not even Brigitte.
The problem was that in ten years of marriage, my husband had gotten into the habit of considering my feelings as something insignificant.
If I was hurt, it was because I didn’t understand the humor.
If I was tired, it was because I didn’t know how to organize my time.
If I was asking for help, it was because I was always looking for something to criticize him for.
And if I kept quiet, everyone thought that everything suited me.
The next morning, I took a travel bag out of the closet.
Thomas was standing in the doorway of our room.
— Where are you going?
— I’m going to stay at my mother’s for a while.
He even smiled.
— Are you considering divorce over a mop?
— No. Because of ten years during which you never learned to respect me.
Her smile disappeared.
A week later, Brigitte called me.
His voice had completely changed.
She was gentle, hesitant.
— Emma, Peter has gone to live somewhere else. He said he could never trust me again.
I remained silent.
— Forgive me for this evening. And for the money. I really behaved horribly.
She offered to repay her debt in several installments.
We drew up a written agreement with specific deadlines.
A few days later, she transferred the first two hundred euros to me.
Thomas was also trying to reconcile with me.
He brought me a huge bouquet of roses, a gold bracelet, and even suggested spending a weekend in a small hotel by a lake.
But I asked him to take back his gifts.
« Emma, what more do you need? » he asked irritably.
— So that you understand why I left.
He remained silent for a long time.
Then, for the first time, he declared:
— I acted like an idiot. I thought it was funny when everyone was laughing. But I didn’t even think about you.
I did not return immediately.
We started seeing each other again, talking, and sometimes we consulted a couples therapist.
I wanted to understand if a person was truly capable of changing or if they were simply afraid of being alone.
Six months passed.
Brigitte continued to repay her debt.
Peter and she still lived separately.
As for Thomas and me, we were slowly trying to rebuild our relationship.
No mocking.
Without the incessant interference of his sister.
Without this habit of assuming that one person in the family should bear the entire burden.
Thomas recently invited me to dinner.
Without family members.
No grand speeches or noisy toasts.
He placed a small box in front of me.
I looked at him suspiciously.
— Don’t tell me there’s still a mop in there.
He blushed.
— No, Emma.
Inside were simple silver earrings.
But the most important thing wasn’t the earrings.
A small note accompanied the gift.
« Forgive me for taking your devotion for granted for ten years. »
I reread those words twice.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had truly been heard.
I don’t know if we will ultimately succeed in saving our marriage.
But now I know one thing for certain.
Love is not measured by the price of gifts.
You can give a woman an expensive fur coat and humiliate her every day.
Or bring her a simple bouquet of wildflowers and make her happy.
But no woman should have to wait ten years for her own husband to finally understand the difference between a joke and humiliation.