Your Millions Cannot Buy Me Back

My wife, the CEO, believed that every man who wanted to marry her was only after her wealth. Because of this, she made me submit an itemized expense report for any purchase over twenty dollars.

Because I loved her, I was willing to step back and be the man behind her career.

But on the day of my car accident, she rejected my emergency request for $3,000 to cover my surgery.

"Do you have any idea how many people live on three thousand dollars a month?" she had snapped over the phone. "My money isn't there for you to bleed me dry!"

The delay in the surgery cost me the full use of my right hand, leaving me with a lifelong disability.

By the time I was rolled out of the operating room, her childhood friend, Chase, who had just returned from living abroad, posted a picture on social media.

The photo showed a rare luxury watch, easily worth half a million dollars.

The caption read:

Some girl is still the same as she was when we were kidsalways giving me her absolute best.

And he tagged Cynthia.

I didn't throw a tantrum like I used to.

Instead, I simply tapped the heart icon and left a comment:

Good for you two. I hope you stay like this forever.

"Isaac, what is the meaning of your comment on Chases post?" Cynthias voice blasted through the phone. "Everyone was having a great time, and now he's feeling guilty because of you! He just got back to the country. What's wrong with me giving him a welcome-back gift? We grew up together. Can you stop being so irrationally jeal"

Before she could even finish the word "jealous," I cut her off.

"Is that so? Then I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

There was a sudden, sharp silence on the other end of the line.

Whenever we used to argue about Chase, I would scream and demand explanations, begging her to choose me. Even though those fights always ended in cold silence, and even though I was always the one left broken-hearted, the next time would come, and Id inevitably find myself begging for proof of her love all over again.

This was the first time I had ever accepted her accusations without a single word of defense.

She didn't know that the car accident had forced me to finally look at what we had, and what we had lost.

Without waiting for her reply, I hung up.

Right after I deleted my comment, my phone lit up with her caller ID again.

Her tone was much calmer this time.

"I wasn't trying to blame you. Its just... forget it. Where are you?"

"The hospital."

"Right. You probably don't have cash for a cab, do you? Ill come pick you up."

The hospital corridor was dim, the lights off, and the heating seemed barely functional. It was New Year's Eve, and the snow falling outside made the draft freezing.

My hand, stiff and swollen from the surgery, clutched the phone. A wave of bitter irony washed over me.

"Aren't you even going to ask why I'm at the hospital?"

Through the receiver, I heard Chases soft voice in the background:

"Cindy, is Isaac still mad at me? I didn't mean to make him uncomfortable... I don't know what to do now. Can you please stay with me?"

My voice went cold. "Cynthia."

She had just said she was coming to get me.

A brief pause echoed on her end.

"Ill have the driver pick you up."

And with that, she hung up.

Listening to the hollow dial tone, I slowly closed the phone, lowered my head, and let out a long, quiet sigh.

As expected, I was still the one left behind in the end.

Just like always.

But for some reason, the tears didn't come this time.

I didn't even feel sad.

I just felt incredibly sorry for myself.

I stood at the hospital entrance, the freezing wind whipping through my thin winter coat.

A cab driver, hurrying to get home, pulled up to the curb and rolled down his window.

"Need a ride home, buddy? I can take you for free. No one should miss New Year's dinner!"

I offered him a faint, tired smile. "Thank you, but someone is coming for me."

The cabs passed by, one after another, but Cynthia's driver never showed up.

She had probably forgotten about me again.

I didn't bombard her phone with desperate calls to demand her arrival. Instead, I simply stepped to the curb and waved down a passing taxi.

I knew I didn't have any money on me.

But the thought of begging her, of making a scene just to get a ride, was something I could no longer bring myself to do.

As the taxi pulled up to the entrance of our gated community, a brilliant burst of fireworks suddenly painted the night sky, illuminating the darkness in vibrant hues.

I stared up, mesmerized. The driver chuckled warmly.

"I heard the CEO of Sunrise Enterprises put on this whole show to welcome her husband back to the country."

"Her husband?" I repeated softly.

The driver nodded, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. "Yeah, apparently he just got back today. Word is they had some misunderstanding over another guy, so she threw a fortune at this display just to prove her devotion. They say these custom fireworks cost ten thousand dollars a minute! Must be nice to be rich, huh?"

So I was the "other guy" now...

I looked down, a quiet, humorless smile touching my lips. The driver continued his lighthearted chatter.

"Well, at least the rest of us ordinary folks get to enjoy the view."

I stared out the window at the brilliant cascades of light. "Yeah. It's beautiful."

A love so grand and public made it easy to forget who her actual husband was.

No wonder picking me up from the hospital felt so insignificant compared to buying his happiness.

"Sir? Sir?"

The driver's voice pulled me back to reality. He gave me an apologetic smile. "We're here. That'll be twenty-five dollars."

"Right."

I reached down, slipped off my platinum wedding band, and placed it on the passenger console.

"Keep the change."

"Wait! Sir! This is too much! Sir!"

The drivers shouts faded behind me as I walked into the dark residential streets.

Just as I reached the edge of our dimly lit driveway, a massive burst of light erupted directly overhead.

I turned. An even more spectacular array of fireworks bloomed into the shape of giant roses, filling the midnight sky.

A fleet of synchronized drones began to form words in the air:

Love like youth, regardless of the cost.

I supposed Chase was very happy right now.

The dazzling lights illuminated half the city, but they only seemed to cast me deeper into the shadows.

I took a few steps forward, letting the edge of the artificial glow wash over me.

This was the warmth my wife had built for another man.

I gently crossed my hands over my chest, looking up at the fading sparks.

"Happy New Year, Isaac."

Back inside the quiet, drafty house, I curled up on the sofa and dialed my best friend, Kyle.

He picked up almost instantly.

"Hey, man. Short on cash again? How much do you need?"

A lump formed in my throat.

Every time Cynthia rejected my requests for essential expenses, Kyle was the one who quietly lent me the money without asking questions.

I swallowed hard and shook my head. "No, Kyle. I wanted to ask... is there still a spot for me at the firm?"

Silence stretched over the line for five agonizing seconds.

Finally, Kyle spoke, his voice thick with disbelief. "Are you serious? You're coming back? You've finally decided?"

"Yes."

After graduation, Kyle and I had started a consulting firm together.

Just as the business was beginning to take off, I met Cynthia during a corporate negotiation.

She was the girl I had secretly loved since college.

Those early days had felt like a dream.

Cynthia had a fragile stomach; my cooking was the only thing she could eat without getting sick. She suffered from terrible insomnia; she could only fall into a deep, peaceful sleep when she was wrapped in my arms.

For her, I agreed to her demand that I leave my career behind to focus entirely on her.

Kyle had tried to warn me. He told me a man should never abandon his own livelihood, especially when our company was on the verge of massive growth. He mapped out our future, painting a picture of the wealth and success we would achieve together.

But back then, I had only smiled and said, "If it's for her, I'd give up anything."

I transferred all my shares to Kyle and dedicated my entire life to taking care of Cynthia.

Only to be left stranded, over and over again, in the freezing cold.

"Of course there's a spot for you!" Kyle's voice rose with genuine excitement. "You're not just saying this because of another fight, right? You're really in?"

I smiled, feeling a genuine spark of hope. "I promise you. I'm in."

"Perfect! I've been wanting to set up our overseas branch, and youre exactly the kind of strategist we need to get it off the ground. What do you say to moving abroad with me?"

"I'd love that."

"Incredible! Get your language certifications sortedjust a standard IELTS score will do. I'll help you prepare. We can head out as early as next month!"

After we hung up, I dug out my old English test prep books from the bottom of the closet.

I should have taken these exams years ago, before Cynthia swept me away.

My English was rusty, and I knew I had to push myself.

Still weak from the surgery, I sat in the study with a bottle of cooling balm pressed to my temples, trying to memorize essay structures.

Because my right hand was entirely useless, I had to train myself to write, painstakingly slow, with my left.

Eventually, exhaustion won, and I drifted off to sleep right there at the desk.

Through the fog of a restless dream, the sound of the front door opening woke me.

"If I drop you off like this, is Isaac going to be upset with me?"

Then came Cynthias voice, thick with alcohol and slurred amusement. "He won't care. He'll probably just cry and beg me not to leave him."

"Whoa, Cindy, steady!"

A sudden gasp echoed through the hallway, and the door to the study was shoved open, jarring me completely awake.

Chase had his arms wrapped tightly around Cynthias waist, supporting her weight as she leaned heavily against him, smelling strongly of red wine.

She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light of the study, and landed on me sitting at the desk.

"You're back?"

I rubbed my eyes, letting out a soft yawn.

Chase immediately let go of Cynthia, looking frantic and apologetic. "I'm so sorry, Isaac! Cindy had way too much to drink, and there weren't any rides available, so I..."

"Oh, don't worry about it. Thanks."

I didn't ask where Cynthia's driver had gone. Instead, I stood up, walked over, and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Your face is freezing. Thank you for bringing her home safe."

Chase froze, completely caught off guard.

Even Cynthia frowned, her eyes narrowing. "Isaac, what is with the attitude?"

"What do you mean? I'm just thanking him."

"Isaac, I really didn't mean to cross any lines," Chase said, reaching out to grab my arm. "If you're going to be mad, be mad at me. Please don't let this ruin things between you and Cindy..."

I gently placed a warm compress I had been using for my hand into his palms. "Here. Take this. Its freezing outside."

Cut off mid-sentence, Chase stared down at the compress in his hands, his expression twisting into a flicker of resentment.

I walked past them toward the bedroom. "If you don't mind the guest room, you're welcome to stay the night. I'm exhausted, so I'll leave you two to it. Goodnight."

I stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind me.

In the hallway, the two of them remained frozen in absolute silence.

A few minutes after I closed my eyes, the bedroom door clicked open.

"Isaac."

She called my name softly a few times.

I was too tired to answer.

"Isaac, I know you're awake," Cynthia said, her voice laced with rising annoyance.

I reluctantly opened my eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"I sent him home."

"Oh. You didn't want him to sleep in the guest room?"

Her brow furrowed. "Isaac, he's my childhood friend. I wish you would stop acting so ridiculously jealous."

"Jealous?"

I let out a soft laugh. "I just thought it was a snowy night and the roads were icy. It seemed safer for him to stay."

Cynthia stared at me, speechless.

I turned back toward the wall, closing my eyes.

The mattress dipped, and her warm body pressed against my back. Her breath brushed against my ear.

"Don't you have anything else to say to me?"

I kept my eyes shut. "Like what?"

"Usually, you have a million things to say when this happens."

I opened my eyes to the dark room.

She was right. Every time I saw her with another man, I used to demand fights, validation, and promises.

"You two grew up together," I said quietly. "I don't have any right to be jealous."

I felt her hand tighten on my shoulder.

For the first time in our marriage, she was the one left without a response.

After a quiet pause, her hand began to slide down toward my waist.

A sudden jolt of anxiety went through me, and I quickly grabbed her wrist.

"I don't want to."

She wrapped her arms tighter around me. "But it's been so long since we..."

I held her hand firmly, keeping her at bay. "Cynthia, are you really not even a little curious about why I was in the hospital today?"

My emergency funding request had clearly stated it was for surgery. Yet, from start to finish, she hadn't asked a single question about my health.

She let out a soft, dismissive chuckle. "I know, I know. It's probably just a cold or a headache. Let me make it up to you tonight, okay?"

"No."

I pulled the duvet tightly around myself, turning away. "I told you, I'm tired."

In our relationship, I had always been the one to accommodate her every whim. I was the one who begged, who pleaded. Rejecting her was something I had never done before.

Beside me, her posture stiffened.

"Isaac, you're usually the one begging for this."

"Am I? Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore."

She didn't say another word.

A moment later, the bedroom door slammed shut with a violent bang that made me startle.

I looked back, but her side of the bed was already empty.

She had stormed out of the house. Soon after, the loud roar of an engine echoed from the driveway as her car sped away.

I didn't chase after her. I didn't send her a string of apologetic texts like I always did whenever she got angry.

Instead, I pulled the blanket up, settled into the quiet room, and finally fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

For the next week, Cynthia didn't come home.

I didn't call to check on her. I spent my days meeting with Kyle, discussing our future business plans, and studying vocabulary.

I had also officially rejoined the firm, and Kyle had already advanced me my first paycheck.

"The paperwork for your shares will take a little time, but everything will be restored to you," Kyle said, beaming as we looked over the company's financial growth. "Our valuation has skyrocketed since you left!"

Listening to him, a wave of regret washed over me.

"You've worked so hard all these years. Thank you, Kyle."

Just then, my phone chimed with a notification. It was a custom alert for a social media update.

I opened it. It was Chase.

I used to care deeply about the relationship Cynthia had with her childhood friend, especially since she always made it a point to visit him whenever she traveled abroad. I had been caught in a miserable cycle of wanting them apart while obsessively tracking what they did.

Because of that, I had turned on notifications for his account.

His latest post was a selfie of him sitting inside a private helicopter, wearing sunglasses and wrapping an arm around someone's shoulder.

The caption read:

Who says childhood sweethearts can't have a romantic getaway?

Though the person beside him was wearing large sunglasses and a face mask, I recognized Cynthia instantly.

I didn't call her to demand answers about why she had taken him on the trip.

I simply tapped the like button, then systematically unfollowed his page and turned off the notifications.

Just as I set my phone down, Cynthias name flashed on the screen.

"I'm coming home for dinner tonight," she said.

"Oh," I replied, unsure of what she expected. "Should I leave some leftovers for you?"

Her voice carried a strain of barely concealed anger. "Isaac, do you really not understand what I'm saying?"