The drive back from Sam's Club took nearly an hour, giving Millie plenty of time to stare at the new black rubber of her tires and the hollow space in her heart. When she finally walked into Jasper's apartment two hours later, the smell of cheap chicken-flavored ramen steam filled the air. Jasper was standing at the stove, casually stirring a pot of noodles, seemingly without a care in the world. Millie didn't say a word; she walked straight to the granite-topped kitchen counter, reached into her white crossbody tote, and slid the three plastic cards across the surface. They skittered like dead leaves before coming to a stop near his bowl.
"They were all declined, Jasper," Millie said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous calm. She sat on the barstool, her ocean-blue eyes fixed on him behind her pink square glasses. "The debit card, the credit card, and even the Quicksilver. Every single one."
Jasper didn't even look up from his ramen at first. He just shrugged, blowing on a forkful of noodles. "Oh, yeah? That's weird. Probably just a glitch with the bank's server or something. I'll call them later. Don't stress it, Mills."
"It wasn't a glitch, Jasper! It was the $1,350 laptop you bought yesterday!" Millie snapped, her frustration finally boiling over. "The man who helped us on the side of the road had to pay for my tires. Six hundred and seventy dollars of a stranger's money is the only reason I could drive home today."
Jasper finally looked up, his expression shifting from casual to defensive. He set the fork down with a clatter. "Whoa, chill out. I said I'd handle it, didn't I? So some guy paid for it—great, we'll just pay him back next month. It's not a big deal. Why are you making this into a whole thing?"
"Because it is a 'thing,' Jasper! It's a massive thing!" Millie stood up, her pastel pink hoodie dress trembling with her anger. "You're sitting here eating ramen because you spent every dime you have on a MacBook you didn't need when you already have a top-of-the-line phone. That is not how a grown man operates. You are 27 years old, Jasper! And I am 28. We aren't kids playing house anymore. These are adult facts: you have no savings, you're banned from every digital payment app because of your 'past mistakes,' and you let your girlfriend's car become a death trap because you'd rather have a new toy than new tires."
"I'm an artist, Millie! I need the tech for my projects," Jasper yelled back, trying to dismiss her with a wave of his hand. "You're sounding like my mother. Just relax, I'll get a gig and it'll be fine."
"No, it won't be fine!" Millie shouted, her voice echoing in the clean kitchen she had just scrubbed for him. "An artist at thirty-three should still be able to cover an emergency. I have to work off that debt on a farm for the next three months because of your selfishness. I'm done letting you 'handle it,' because you never do."
She grabbed her keys from the counter, leaving him standing there with his cooling noodles and his declined cards, the silence of the apartment feeling heavier than their shouting ever could.
The night air was cool by the time Millie pulled the Chevrolet Trax into her parents' driveway. The house was a silhouette of comfort against the dark sky, a sharp contrast to the cold tension she had left behind at Jasper's apartment. As she stepped inside, the familiar, nostalgic theme music of InuYasha drifted from the living room. Her father was settled in his recliner, the glow of the television reflecting off his glasses. Millie tried to slip toward the stairs, her head low and her ocean-blue eyes clouded, but her father didn't miss a beat.
"Don't go upstairs. Come over here, let's talk because I know when my little princess is upset," he said, his voice warm and commanding in that way only a father's can be. Millie sighed, the weight of the day finally breaking her stride. She walked over and sat on the sofa, and a moment later, her mother appeared from the kitchen, sliding in on her other side to sandwich her in a silent show of support. Her father paused the TV, the vibrant anime colors freezing on the screen as the room fell into a supportive silence.
Millie poured it all out—the blowout, the declined cards, the $1,350 laptop, and the three years of mounting irresponsibility from Jasper. "Maybe I'm just too childish for him, I guess," she whispered, her voice cracking as she looked at her strawberry-white sneakers. Her father's expression shifted instantly from concern to a protective, simmering heat. "Princess, you aren't childish. You're independent. There are adults who haven't moved out of their parents' house until they're 45 or 50—some just don't. The economy is expensive and inflation is kicking everyone's butts right now; jobs are cutting hours. Don't be upset that me and your mother don't want you working temporarily."
"Millie, that shootout at the McDonald's was insane," her mother added, her voice trembling at the memory. "Getting a call from the manager saying you were in the hospital had me and your father scared to death." Millie grew quiet, her hand drifting to the hem of her pastel pink hoodie dress. She slowly lifted the fabric, looking down at the two bullet scars situated just above her belly button, and the long surgical scar that traveled up her tummy to just below her breasts. It was a jagged map of the night she almost lost her life while working a shift that was supposed to be routine.
"That was frightening," Millie murmured, tracing the edge of the scar with her thumb. Her father reached out and took her hand. "If you want to go back into the workforce, go ahead. We just wanted you to recover and choose a different career path than flipping burgers." Millie nodded, a small "Yeah" escaping her lips as the reality of her parents' love washed over her.
Her mother leaned in, tears welling in her eyes as they all pulled into a tight family hug. "This house will be going towards you anyway, so just work, focus on saving the money me and your father give you monthly, and live your life for you. You are the best daughter to us. We are blessed to have you." The words were the balm Millie needed after being made to feel like a burden by Jasper. As the house grew still and the clocks ticked toward midnight, the family finally retreated to their rooms. It was Friday night, and while the scars on her body were permanent, Millie realized the life she was living didn't have to be.