I Made the Champion, She Took the Credit

I told my manager there was a family emergency and asked for an advance on my pay.

He counted out the cash and handed it to me with a sympathetic look.

Around 2:00 am, my husband, Jonathan Nash, came home smelling of alcohol. When he saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, he furrowed his brows. "Why are you still up?"

He hurried over and saw my raw, bloody heel. Guilt and concern flashed across his face.

Just like he used to do back when he was paralyzed, he picked up a cotton swab and began tending to the wound.

"How can you leave an injury like this untreated?" His voice was soft, carrying a familiar tenderness.

I flinched when the swab touched the open wound. Jonathan immediately softened his touch and bent down to blow gently on it.

"Amber was only up on stage with me for the sponsors and the press," he explained quietly as he applied a Band-Aid. "The public isn't going to accept a world champion boxer whose partner is a hotel housekeeper. It could cost me future endorsement deals."

He said it as though it were simple common sense, something everyone should understand.

Hearing him put it so casually, I felt a chill run through me.

For eight years, I cared for him day and night. I sold my family home to pay for his medical bills and stayed up night after night through his endless, grueling rehabilitation sessions. Yet all that devotion was meant to stay hidden.

Jonathan took the commemorative medallion from his championship belt and pressed it into my palm. "You deserve at least half the credit for this. I know that better than anyone, Yvette."

I looked down at the gold medallion. "Jonathan, you've already married another woman. It's over between us."

His hand froze on the medicine box. Avoiding my gaze, he stood up and snapped the box shut.

"Where else would you even go, Yvette? You don't have any family left. You sold your home for my surgery. Stop overthinking this. Amber and I aren't what you think we are. You're the only woman I've ever considered my wife."

Jonathan turned away and took a suit for the next day from the closet.

"I'm flying overseas the day after tomorrow for an exhibition match. Pack my boxing gloves and my backup medication. Amber is coming with me as the team doctor. Put her medical records in my suitcase too."

He rattled off instructions like nothing was wrong. When he saw me sitting there in silence, his hand froze halfway through loosening his tie.

After a moment, he walked back over and wrapped his arms around me.

"I haven't forgotten my promise to you, Yvette." Resting his chin on my head, he murmured, "You wanted a home, and you wanted to buy back your family home. I remember."

My body stiffened when I caught the faint trace of a woman's perfume on his clothes.

"I bought the house back." He pulled away and reached into his inner suit pocket, handing me an old brass key.

"The paperwork is still being processed, but I was saving this for your birthday tomorrow. Take the day off. I'll take you home."

Home. It sounded so sweet.

My fingers tightened around the key as I answered emotionally, "Okay."

Jonathan smiled in satisfaction and walked into the bathroom.

…

The next morning, I stood in front of the familiar red-painted wooden door, my eyes stinging with tears. But just as I took the key out, the door swung open from the inside.