The Deal That Cost Her Everything

After Stella Frost tore up my resignation letter, I didn't rush to smooth things over the way I used to. I only felt tired.

Over the years, she had used my education to cut me more times than I could count.

Stella and I grew up together in the same small town, but I was the kid raised by the neighbors because I had no real family of my own.

When we were little, she would secretly bring me food. If her mom baked bread or her dad brought candy back, she always saved half for me.

We got together during our freshman year of college, and that was the happiest time of my life.

Then, her dad suddenly got sick.

The surgery cost tens of thousands, more than her family could ever hope to afford.

I still remembered that winter night. She crouched in the hospital hallway, sobbing until she could barely breathe, and said to me, "Felix, I'm dropping out to work. I can't lose my dad."

I was so angry that I didn't talk to her for days.

Then I went and withdrew from school myself, secretly taking jobs so I could save money for her dad's treatment.

I didn't tell her because I knew she would never agree.

My academic advisor tried to talk me out of it for a long time. She said it hadn't been easy for someone with my background to get into college.

I told her it was fine. I said I couldn't focus on school, anyway.

That was a lie. My grades were good. I just didn't have money.

After that, I worked myself half to death, hauling cement on construction sites, handing out flyers, and delivering food all over the city. The blisters on my hands split open, healed, and came back again. The skin on my shoulders wore raw.

In the summer, when it was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, I got heatstroke on a job site, but I drank two bottles of Gatorade and went right back to work.

In the winter, when it dropped below freezing, I rode an electric bike across the city delivering food until my hands swelled red and stiff.

I worked three jobs a day and forced together enough money for the medical bills. Then I lived as cheaply as I could to put Stella through college.

My education stopped forever at a high school diploma.

For the past six years, I had fought my way through the sales industry. I drank until my stomach bled, won top sales a dozen times, and became the real estate king everyone in the business knew.

I had never once brought up dropping out, and I had never tried to use that old favor to hold her hostage.

But after Stella became a director, she treated it like my weakness instead.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

When Stella saw that I wasn't speaking, she sighed and changed her approach, the way she always did when we argued.

"I know you feel wronged, but Tanner studied overseas. When we bring him out to meet international clients, he makes us look good. We're married. What's mine is yours. Are you really going to fight me over a little commission?"

Tanner Davis made us look good?

I laughed coldly to myself.

Of course. She needed someone who made her look good.

Whenever major clients came to the company, she sent me out on errands. The clients drove cars worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, and I didn't even get the chance to meet them.

Once, I ran into a client downstairs, chatted with him for a few minutes, and closed the deal.

When Stella found out, she wasn't happy. Instead, she scolded me and said it was against company rules for me to contact a client above my level.

When executives came to our home for dinner, she said she was afraid I wouldn't know how to talk about wine and might feel embarrassed, so she told me to eat out by myself.

When she bought clothes for me, she never bought suits. She said I looked like an insurance salesman in one.

Once, I finally couldn't hold back and asked her, "Are you that afraid I'll embarrass you?"

"You're overthinking it," she said lightly, as if it didn't matter at all. "I just think casual clothes are more comfortable for you."

She claimed she didn't care, but the truth was, she was ashamed to have a husband with only a high school education.

"You're right. He does make you look good."

I didn't want to say anything more. This time, I didn't compromise the way I used to. I turned and walked away.

"Felix!"

Stella called after me, her tone suddenly softening.

"I have a college reunion tonight. You've pulled several all-nighters lately, so just go straight home after work and rest."

See?

In the end, appearances were all she cared about.

Several times before, whenever she had a class reunion or some gathering with old college friends, she would tell me to stay home and rest.

I had even been stupid enough to feel touched, thinking she was worried about me.

Now, I finally understood.

She just thought bringing her high-school-educated sales rep husband around her overseas-educated classmates would embarrass her.

"Okay."

I didn't expose her.

I answered with one word and left.