The first time my Rolex Submariner went missing from my dresser, I gave Sharon the benefit of the doubt. I thought I had misplaced it during a late shift at the office. But when my spare cash and a gold bar I kept in the master bedroom safe also vanished, the math stopped adding up.
Sharon had always liked the “high life,” but it shifted from expensive brunches to secret trips. I started noticing her Grab history—constant late-night rides to the cruise terminal. She was boarding the weekly casino cruises, thinking she could “invest” our savings at the baccarat tables.
I checked my wardrobe one evening and realized my luxury suits and her own designer bags were gone. She had been hocking everything at second-hand dealers in Far East Plaza to fund her chips.
“Sharon, where is my suit? And the gold bar?” I asked, cornering her in the kitchen.
She didn’t even look guilty. “I just ‘borrow’ only. I almost won big last night, just one more hand and I can buy back everything double. Why you so calculative? We are husband and wife, right?”
“You’re not borrowing, you’re stealing from your own home to gamble,” I said. “This is a sickness already.”
I gave her a chance to seek help. Instead, she took the spare key to my study and emptied the emergency cash drawer while I was at work. That was the final straw. I couldn’t live in a house where I had to padlock my own wardrobe.
The following Saturday, while she was out at sea, I changed the digital locks on our HDB flat. I packed whatever was left of her clothes into three suitcases and left them at the lift lobby for her brother to collect.
When she finally returned and realized her fingerprint no longer unlocked the door, she started pounding on the wood. “Meng! You siao ah? Let me in! You cannot evict me like that, I’m your wife!”
“You’re a thief, Sharon,” I said through the door. “Go stay with your sister. The divorce papers are coming. I’m not spending the rest of my life watching my hard work disappear into a casino’s pocket.”
I sat in my quiet living room and realized for the first time in months, I didn’t feel the need to check if my wallet was still in my pocket. The “face” of the marriage was gone, but at least my home was finally secure.