Henry, my husband, and I recently got married. Sure, it was later in life because we were those people who wanted to work on our careers before even thinking about family life. Henry is a successful engineer, and I am a pediatrician — best believe I’ve had enough crying babies to know that I didn’t want my own.

Anyway, I thought that getting into a marriage later would mean that there would be less to worry about because people my age would know who they are and what they want.

But I was so wrong. Turns out that people can still present you with entirely new sides of themselves late into their forties.

Yesterday was my 40th birthday, so to celebrate, Henry suggested that we have a birthday dinner after work and invite my parents because they live nearby. Usually, our date nights meant pizza and a movie at home because we would be so exhausted from work.

So, this was new and great. Henry told me he made reservations at one of the fanciest restaurants around — it was somewhere we always wanted to go, but we just never had the time.

We get to the restaurant, and everything is absolutely lovely. My parents are all dressed up and excited to leave the house. Honestly, I was happier that they were with us, enjoying this restaurant rather than celebrating my birthday.

Everything was going great until it was time to pay the $1100 bill. It wasn’t a shock; we knew where we were and the price that came with it.

But what happened next really shocked me.

Henry, with a straight face, turns to me and smiles.

“Hey, Darling,” he says. “It’s your birthday, so I thought that you would pay. I didn’t bring my wallet with me.”

He ran his finger across his empty plate, getting the last bit of sauce.

Other than the chatter of diners around us, it was silent. My parents and I were floored. My father’s face was clouded, and I knew his anger was building.

“Henry,” Dad said. “Shame on you. You invited us to dinner for Nora’s birthday. You can afford to do it, don’t get me wrong, but how can you not pay for your wife’s birthday dinner?”

Henry just grinned awkwardly, utterly oblivious to our discomfort.

“Did you even buy her a birthday present, or did you expect her to do that too?” Dad continued.

I was too shocked by Henry to defend him. And I couldn’t even answer my father, because Henry didn’t get me a birthday present — I thought this dinner was the present.

“Henry, this is embarrassing,” I said after a moment.

I didn’t want to retaliate, but the more he sipped on the champagne, the more irritable I got.

“Why did you make such a big fuss about my birthday if you expect me to pay for it all? I don’t mind because it was dinner with my parents, but you embarrassed us both at the end of the day.”

Still, Henry said nothing while my parents exchanged glances, clearly appalled.

I didn’t want my father to take the bill and pay for it — he couldn’t afford this, and there was no way I would let him do it. But you know how Dads are.

I paid the bill with a deep sigh. And when we left, I was feeling a mix of disappointment and humiliation. This was precisely what my parents warned me about — they were glad when I finally met Henry, but leading up to the wedding, they only warned me about being with someone who would use me.

Anyway, back home, I confronted Henry about his thoughtless behavior. I told him that it wasn’t about the money. It was about much more than that. I didn’t want to look stupid for defending him before this.

But he dismissed it, claiming that he left his wallet on his bedside table when we rushed out of the house. He said that he didn’t think I would mind covering the bill. There was no remorse whatsoever. He showed absolutely no understanding of what I felt about it all.

For some reason, I just found it really difficult to look past. The dinner incident had become a turning point, making me reassess our relationship dynamics.

Henry tried to apologize before I left for work this morning, but the damage was done. It exposed a side of him that I didn’t know existed — if it was that honest of a mistake, he could have said it at the restaurant instead of throwing back the glasses of champagne, becoming increasingly smug with every gulp.

This was an unforgettable birthday present because now I’m faced with the daunting task of deciding how to proceed with our relationship.

It feels like I married a stranger. Any advice or similar experiences for me?

Here’s another story: A woman did not like the way her in-laws implied that she and her husband had to pay for their meals despite them sending the invites for dinner. Unintentionally, the woman made a comment that embarrassed her in-laws.