Her Dream Lives On

Before my future self could answer, the voices of two children burst through from somewhere beside her.

"Mom, why are you hiding in the bathroom playing on your phone again?"

"Dad works so hard, and you don't even care!"

"Yeah! Grandma and Grandpa said you need to stop ordering so much stuff. Dad works really hard for his money. You shouldn't keep wasting it."

The boys sounded young, their voices bright and childish, but there was no mistaking the accusation in them.

The image on my screen jolted. My future self hurriedly lowered her phone, as though she didn't want the children to see me.

Only moments ago, she'd been calmly breaking down industry trends and technological shifts for me, sharp and perceptive, every word precise and decisive. Yet in front of those two little boys, something almost like embarrassment flickered across her face.

She immediately tried to explain. "Mom isn't wasting money. Mom has a job too..."

"But Grandma says all you do is run errands at Dad's company."

The child's words were innocent and merciless.

"Dad says it too. He says you're kind of dumb and you couldn't do anything without him. He told us we should never grow up to be like you!"

My frown deepened.

Something lodged in my chest, heavy enough to make it hard to breathe.

The countdown in the upper-right corner of the screen showed three seconds remaining. The connection began to fail, the image freezing again and again.

My future self looked straight at me. Her lips moved, but her voice kept breaking up.

Just before her image disappeared completely, I finally made out her last words.

"Xenia Wells, whatever you do, don't give up on your dream!"

The screen went black, leaving only the reflection of my red-rimmed eyes.

Tomorrow was supposed to be my first day at Yale Quade's company.

I'd already packed my things and planned to move into his rented apartment so we could save money while getting the startup off the ground together.

Two job offers sat side by side on my desk.

The one on the left was from Yale's newly established company.

Position: Executive Assistant to the General Manager.

Salary: $30,000 a year

The one on the right was from StellarWave Technologies, one of the country's leading tech companies.

Software development.

$150,000 a year in total compensation.

The deadline to accept StellarWave's offer was midnight tonight.

For the past several days, I'd been debating whether to take it.

The pay was excellent, and the career prospects were even better. More importantly, it was exactly the kind of work I'd spent four years in college preparing myself to do.

Yale disagreed.

He said big tech companies only threw high salaries at young people so they could work them into the ground. I was a woman, he told me. There was no reason for me to grind myself down in a technical role.

His company might still be in its infancy, but if I was willing to stick with him through the hardest part, then once it took off, I'd be the boss's wife and a founding shareholder. That was a lot better than being some replaceable corporate drone who could be laid off whenever the company decided to "optimize" its workforce.

More importantly, we'd be building the future side by side.

A future that belonged entirely to the two of us.

I'd believed him.

I had even been ready to log into StellarWave's recruiting portal and personally turn down the offer that had made so many of my classmates green with envy.

Now, all I could hear were those two little boys criticizing me as though every word they said was simply fact. All I could see was the regret and frustration filling my future self's eyes.

What had my dream been?

To join a top tech company and become an exceptional programmer?

Or to become Yale's "supportive wife," handling all the miscellaneous work at his company while he built his career?

I sat there for a long time before my phone buzzed.

The screen lit up with a message from Yale.

[Tomorrow's your first day at the company. Don't be late.]

[Pick up breakfast for the team on your way in. I'm sending you the list.]

A second later, an absurdly detailed breakfast order came through.

[Grant Zane: breakfast burrito, no cilantro.]

[Nathan Lewis: steak breakfast tacos, extra hot sauce.]

[Tyler Stone: two sausage biscuits and an iced soy latte.]

[Adrian Zeller: ham-and-cheese grits, from that place on the south side.]

[Evan Lawson: Americano, no sugar, plus a hard-boiled egg.]

...

It was a long, densely packed list. Seventeen people in all.

Then I reached the last line, which Yale had singled out on its own.

[Jenna Xavier: whole-wheat bagel, no tomato, low-fat cream cheese. Hot latte with oat milk. Her stomach's sensitive, so don't get it iced.]

Jenna Xavier was someone Yale had personally recruited.

She was a year behind us in college and had been a junior member of the same student club as him. She had no relevant work experience, and her degree wasn't even in the field.

Yale had still hired her as a product manager and offered her three thousand more than other new graduates in the same role.

Jenna had caused arguments between us before.

She was always messaging Yale late at night. What started as questions about work would somehow turn into conversations about every little thing going on in her life.

Whenever Yale and I were having dinner together, he complained that ordinary work messages were annoying. Yet he never seemed to miss a single one from Jenna.

By the end of every argument, somehow I was the one in the wrong.

He said I was making something out of nothing. That my mind was filthy for twisting a perfectly innocent relationship between coworkers into something ugly.

Then, as if that weren't enough, he'd compare me to her.

"Jenna's a year younger than you, and she's still more mature.

"Once you start working here, learn from her. She knows how to deal with people. Stop acting like you're above everyone."

At the time, I genuinely believed I'd done something wrong.

I'd even felt guilty for suspecting Yale.

Now, staring at that breakfast order, something suddenly became painfully clear.

There were seventeen people on the list.

Jenna was the only one whose stomach problems he remembered.

He even remembered that she took oat milk in her latte.

We'd been together for three years, and he still couldn't remember that I was allergic to peanuts.

...

I stared at the message, my finger hovering over the screen without replying.

In the past, I would have immediately sent back a quick [Got it.]

Then I would have set an alarm for five in the morning, mapped out a route covering more than a dozen breakfast places, and called ahead to make sure every order was exactly right. Even if one place was completely out of the way, even if the detour meant missing the subway before rush hour, I would still have found a way to get everything into the conference room by seven-thirty.

Yale was always telling me I was too quiet, that all I knew how to do was code and I didn't understand how the real world worked.

"Xenia, the workplace isn't college. Technical skills alone won't get you anywhere. You need people skills too.

"I'm asking you to pick up breakfast because I'm trying to help you fit in with the team.

"Stop acting like this stuff is beneath you. Knowing how to deal with people is a skill too. Most people don't even get someone willing to teach them."

He had said some version of those things so many times that I'd lost count.

And it wasn't just about work.

He was always correcting me in my personal life too.

He said I had no sense of style and didn't know how to make myself look good.

He said I wasn't social enough at networking dinners and embarrassed him by not making more of an effort.

He said I was boring and unromantic, that aside from studying and coding, I didn't know how to do anything.

After hearing it often enough, I'd started questioning myself too.

Was I really that bad?

In four years of college, I'd won two national scholarships and ranked first in my major three years in a row.

A recommendation model I'd developed entirely on my own had won gold at a national collegiate software innovation competition.

StellarWave Technologies had put me through four rounds of technical interviews, and I had received the highest overall score in my applicant group.

Yet somehow, in Yale's eyes, I couldn't do anything right.

Because I didn't know how to work a room at business dinners, didn't want to drink with strangers just to flatter them, and had no interest in waiting hand and foot on his coworkers, that apparently made me immature, antisocial, and unfit for the workplace.

My phone buzzed again.

Another message from Yale.

[Did you see my message? Why aren't you answering?]

[This is exactly what I mean. You take forever to do everything. You can't be like this once you start at the company. Breakfast needs to be in the conference room by 7:30 tomorrow morning.]

[If you're late, don't expect me to go easy on you. I'll call you out in front of everyone.]

I glanced at the time.

11:30 p.m.

I had thirty minutes before my offer from StellarWave expired.

I opened my chat with Yale. My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before I typed a single line.

[I'm not going to work at your company tomorrow.]

His call came through immediately.

I answered.

"Xenia Wells, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

His voice was low and thick with irritation.

"It means exactly what it says." My voice was calmer than I'd expected. "I don't want to work at your company anymore."

"Why?"

He gave a cold laugh.

"Are you throwing another tantrum because I was too busy with the project to take you to a movie tonight? How many times do I have to tell you? I'm building a company. I don't have time for that childish stuff."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum."

"Then what the hell is wrong with you?"

His voice shot up.

"We settled this ages ago. Everyone knows you're starting tomorrow. Now you're backing out at the last minute. What am I supposed to tell the team?

"Plus I made you Executive Assistant to the General Manager. You just graduated, and I'm already giving you access to the company's core operations. What exactly are you unhappy about?"

I glanced at the breakfast list.

"Buying breakfast for seventeen people counts as core operations?"

There was a brief silence.

Then Yale scoffed.

"Xenia, grow up.

"I asked you to pick up breakfast. That's it. And you're acting like you've been mistreated? We're building a startup. Everyone is working overtime. What's wrong with asking you to handle something you're perfectly capable of doing?

"You haven't even started yet. You don't know how anything works, and you can't contribute to the engineering team. Of course you start with smaller things."

I tightened my grip on the phone.

"Then why aren't you putting me on the engineering team?"

Yale clearly hadn't expected that.

"What would you even do on the engineering team?"

"I studied computer science for four years. I won gold at a national software innovation competition. StellarWave hired me as a developer. So why does your company only think I'm qualified to be an assistant?"

"StellarWave is a huge company with a full training program. Mine is a startup. We don't have time to hold your hand while you figure things out."

The answer came without hesitation.

"And those little competitions you did in college aren't the same as working on real projects. Everyone on my engineering team has more experience than you. Stop acting like your grades mean that much."

"Jenna doesn't have any product experience either," I said. "You made her a product manager."

"Jenna's different from you."

The words came out before he could stop them.

Apparently realizing how that sounded, he paused for two seconds before continuing.

"She has high emotional intelligence. She knows how to communicate, so product suits her. You're too withdrawn. You couldn't lead a team if you tried. I put you in an assistant role because that's what matches your abilities."

So that was it.

And there it was. The truth.

It wasn't that his startup was too new to train someone. He was perfectly willing to give Jenna a chance. He just wasn't willing to give one to me.

There was no point arguing anymore.

"Think whatever you want. I'm still not joining your company."

"Xenia!"

Yale finally lost his patience.

"Do you have any idea how much pressure I'm under right now? I'm working until the middle of the night every day. Who do you think I'm doing all this for? I'm building this company for our future!

"If you don't want to help me, fine. But now you're actively making things harder for me. How can you be this selfish?"

Hearing him call me "selfish" was so absurd that I almost laughed.

I'd turned down my professor's invitation to continue my studies so I could build the company with him.

To help him save money, I'd been preparing to move out of my apartment near campus and squeeze into a rental with him two hours outside the city.

I'd been ready to turn down a $150,000 tech job for an assistant position paying just $30,000 a year, all while handling whatever miscellaneous work his entire team dumped on me.

And somehow, I was the selfish one.

"Yale, does this future you keep talking about actually have a place for me in it?"

The other end of the line went quiet for several seconds.

"What are you overthinking now?

"If the company eventually goes public, everyone on your engineering team will have a title and achievements of their own. Every one of them will have a great future."

"What about me?"

"When people talk about me, what are they going to say?"

"That I'm your girlfriend? Or your assistant?"

"What's the difference?" Yale sounded genuinely baffled. "Once we're married, you'll be the boss's wife. Half the company will be yours. Why are you so hung up on a job title?"

"Because half the company won't actually be mine."

My voice stayed calm.

"I won't have equity. I won't have technical accomplishments of my own. I won't have any real management authority. In the end, I'll just be an assistant who can be replaced at any time."

My future self had already shown me exactly where that road led.

Twelve years from now, Yale would be worth well over a billion dollars.

And I would still be at his company ordering food, filing expense reports, recruiting employees, and compiling reports.

I wouldn't even be able to spend my own money without our sons accusing me of wasting his.

"Enough."

Yale cut me off impatiently.

"I don't have time to listen to this nonsense.

"If you don't want to come, then don't. Let's see how far that wooden personality of yours gets you without me.

"You really think getting an offer from StellarWave means you're some kind of genius? Big companies hire huge classes of new grads every year. How many of them do you think actually last?

"With your personality, people will freeze you out within three months. When that happens, don't come crying back to me."

He hung up hard enough that the line went dead in my ear.

I leaned back in my chair, my heart still pounding.

Yet strangely, after listening to all that criticism and contempt, I didn't feel hurt at all.

If anything, I felt clearer than I ever had.

Maybe Yale didn't love me at all.

Maybe what he wanted was someone obedient, unpaid, and technically capable enough to be useful whenever he needed her.

Someone he could constantly tear down so he could feel superior.

An accessory to his life.

I put down my phone, opened my laptop, and logged into StellarWave's recruiting portal.

The acceptance reminder they'd sent three days earlier was still counting down.

Twenty minutes left.

I moved the cursor over the confirmation button and clicked.

A second confirmation window appeared immediately.

[Confirm acceptance of StellarWave Technologies' employment offer?]

[Once confirmed, this decision cannot be withdrawn.]

I stared at the words "cannot be withdrawn" and suddenly smiled.

Good.

I had no intention of going back anyway.

I clicked Confirm.

A few seconds later, a green notification appeared in the center of the screen.

[Offer accepted.]

[Welcome to StellarWave Technologies.]

I looked at those two lines and slowly let out the breath I'd been holding.

Then I shut down my laptop and walked over to the suitcase I'd already packed.

It was filled with the clothes and everyday things I'd planned to take to Yale's rental.

One by one, I took everything out and put it back where it belonged.

Finally, I reached into the inner compartment and pulled out a notebook I hadn't opened in years.

On the cover was a sentence I'd written by hand during my freshman year.

[Xenia Wells, you will become the person you want to be. Build a life of your own, and never depend on someone else to give you one.]

The handwriting looked young, almost childish.

But there wasn't a trace of hesitation in it.

I stared at the words for a long time, then picked up a pen and added one more line beneath them.

[Xenia Wells, may your dream live on.]

...

The next morning, I woke to someone pounding on my door.

When I opened it, Yale was standing in the hallway, his face dark with anger. Jenna was right behind him, carrying several bags of breakfast. Sweat beaded across her forehead, and her eyes were slightly red, as though she'd suffered some terrible injustice and was bravely trying not to complain.

The moment Yale saw me, he demanded, "Why didn't you answer the call?"

I glanced down at it. After accepting StellarWave's offer last night, I'd put it on silent. There were more than twenty missed calls on the screen, all from Yale.

"I was asleep. Why would I answer my phone?"

"You could actually sleep after what you did?"

He slammed the breakfast bags onto the entryway table, the plastic crackling sharply.

"Do you have any idea what happened because you dropped everything without a word? Jenna had to get up at five this morning and buy breakfast for everyone. She went to more than a dozen places by herself, and she even fell on the way!"

There was a Band-Aid on Jenna's knee. When she noticed me looking, she forced a smile.

"Xenia, please don't fight with Yale because of this. It's my fault too. If I'd known you didn't want to do it, I would've offered to help you sooner."

I almost laughed.

Yale had been the one who ordered me to buy breakfast for the entire company, yet somehow the story had turned into me deliberately dumping the job on Jenna.

Yale glared at me. "Look at Jenna, then look at yourself. You're both women, and she's a year younger than you, but she knows how to think about the team and help out when people need it. You throw a fit over one tiny thing and leave everyone waiting!"

"Everyone was waiting for me?" I leaned against the doorframe. "You sent me that message at eleven-thirty last night. What made any of you think I'd agreed to do it?"

Yale faltered.

Jenna immediately stepped in, her voice soft. "He only gave you the task without checking first because he trusts you, Xenia. You're his girlfriend. Of course he doesn't have to be as formal with you.

"People like us don't get that kind of trust even if we want it."

Right on cue, her eyes grew misty again as she looked at Yale.

His expression softened at once. When he turned back to me, the only thing left on his face was impatience.

"Enough. I'm not here to argue with you. I'm letting this morning go. Get ready and come back to the office with me."

I didn't move.

"I accepted StellarWave's offer last night."

The hallway went silent.

Yale stared at me as though the words hadn't registered.

"What did you just say?"

"I accepted StellarWave's offer. I start next Monday."

His expression darkened by several degrees.

"Xenia Wells, have you lost your mind? I already set up your desk. Everyone on the team knows you were supposed to start today. Now you're suddenly running off to StellarWave? What am I supposed to tell them? How does that make me look?"

I watched him.

Even now, he wasn't concerned about what I wanted.

He was worried about being embarrassed.

"Tell them I found a job that's a better fit for me."

"A better fit?"

Yale laughed in disbelief.

"You think a big tech company is some kind of charity? You're fresh out of college. Do you have any idea how insignificant you'll be there?

"You'd rather be the lowest cog in somebody else's machine than build a company with me?"

"Yes."

I didn't hesitate.

"At least that cog gets $150,000 a year and doesn't have to get up at five in the morning to run breakfast errands for seventeen people."

Yale's face went rigid with anger.

Jenna quickly caught his sleeve. "Yale, don't get mad. Xenia just hasn't experienced how hard the real workplace can be yet. She'll understand once she starts."

Then she turned to me, still speaking in that gentle voice.

"Xenia, I know StellarWave pays well, but Yale isn't just offering you a paycheck. He's offering you love and a future. If you leave him for money now, you're going to regret it someday."

"I'm going to StellarWave for myself. This is my choice, and whether I regret it someday or not, I'll live with the consequences."

I paused.

"As for our relationship..."

I slipped the matching bracelet from my wrist and set it gently on the entryway table. The silver chain landed with a faint metallic clink.

"Yale, we're done."

For the first time, a flash of unmistakable delight broke through Jenna's wounded expression.

Yale, however, looked as though I'd said something completely absurd.

"You're breaking up with me over a high-paying job?"

He stared at me in disbelief.

"Xenia, I never knew you were the kind of person who'd throw everything away for money."

"It's not about the job."

My voice remained calm.

"It's because I finally understand what you call love. You expect me to give up my career, my income, and my dignity so I can depend on you completely.

"You were willing to make Jenna a product manager when she had no experience at all, but you decided that I, someone who graduated at the top of my major and won a national software competition, was only good enough to be your assistant."

I looked straight at him.

"Yale, you never thought I was incapable. You're afraid I am."

For a split second, something flickered in Yale's eyes, the discomfort of someone who'd just been caught out. Then his embarrassment curdled into anger.

He stepped toward me, crowding the doorway.

"Don't flatter yourself.

"You really think I need you? There are plenty of people lining up to work for me."

"Great."

I reached for the door.

Before I could close it, he caught it with one hand. The anger in his eyes gave way to something more calculating.

"Wait."