While my wife and her first love were on their honeymoon, I was lying in a hospital bed, being spoon-fed by her best friend. While she was tending to her sick first love, never leaving his side, her best friend bought me a private island to celebrate my birthday. A month later, at the company’s IPO celebration, my wife announced to everyone, "From now on, Roman will be taking over Liam's position. Liam is transferred to Logistics." I walked into my wife’s office. The moment she saw me, she sneered. "Save your breath. I'm not going to—" I cut her off with a smile, placing a letter on her desk. "You misunderstand, Ms. Monroe. I'm here to resign." 1 My words stunned my wife, Isabella, who had been wearing an expression that clearly said, I knew you couldn't handle it. "You… what did you say? Resign?" She snatched the letter, glanced at it, and then tore it to shreds. "Liam, are you trying to pull some kind of stunt with me?" she spat, her face contorted with fury. "Are you bitter because I gave Roman your job?" I looked at her, my hands spread in a gesture of helplessness. "You're the CEO. Who you hire and fire is your call, isn't it?" "Oh, is that so? Fine. In that case, I do not accept your resignation!" "I'm sorry, Ms. Monroe." I met her gaze, my own expression placid. "Hiring is your prerogative. Quitting is mine." I turned and walked away, ignoring the sound of Isabella's furious roar behind me. Seven years. Seven long years. From the moment we started dating to the day we married, I had treated her like a queen. Had she forgotten who helped her through the brutal early days of her startup? I took out a $500,000 loan for her, pouring my blood, sweat, and tears into supporting her dream. I never once told her about the crushing weight of the daily repayments. Did she know that I was secretly living on instant ramen in a cheap, rundown apartment, working myself to the bone every single day? On the day the company went public, everyone got a bonus. Everyone except me. That night, she took me to her home. She told me that she was my bonus. That was the night I discovered she lived in a mansion. The half-million dollars I had scrimped and saved to borrow for her… it was nothing more than her pocket money. After we married, she bought a lavish estate to be our marital home. I thought, finally, the good days were here. But then, her first love, Roman, returned from abroad. The day he arrived, she was dressed to the nines, a fleet of ten luxury cars lined up at the airport to greet him. That evening, she booked the most expensive restaurant in the city and opened a bottle of '82 Lafite. Over dinner, Roman marveled at her success. He wept crocodile tears over his own stalled career, lamenting how he envied my life now. Isabella hugged him tightly, cooing, "Don't you worry, Ro. From now on, what's mine is yours." She sat with him, sipping glass after glass of red wine. Her eyes fell on the mountain of beer bottles next to my seat, and her brow furrowed in disgust. "Drinking beer in a place like this? So trashy." I looked at her through a drunken haze, a self-deprecating smile on my face. "You're right. I guess I just don't have the palate for such expensive wine." That night, she drove Roman home herself. I took a cab back alone. Worried, I called her. "Honey, did you guys make it home okay?" "We're here. Look, I have to go run a bath for Roman. I'll talk to you later." 2 She hung up. Not a single word of concern for me, only impatience. She always told me she was a "career woman," not good at showing she cared. The next day, Roman showed up at the office. In front of the entire company, Isabella announced he was the new Director of Advertising. It had taken me seven years of back-breaking work, of sacrificing everything, to reach that level. He had just walked in the door. On what grounds? "On the grounds that he's an international talent with a degree from Cambridge. What are you?" she snarled when I stormed into her office. I pointed at myself, my body trembling. I had to take several deep breaths before I could speak. "What am I? Have you forgotten everything I've done for this company over the past seven years?" At my words, she slammed her hands on the desk and shot to her feet. "What you've done? Are you trying to pull rank with seniority?" Her words hit me like a physical blow. I froze. My eyes turned red with sorrow. Her eyes turned red with rage. I looked at my own reflection in her furious pupils, and I laughed. A hollow, broken sound. So that’s what it all amounted to. All my sacrifice, all my devotion… was just "seniority." After work that day, Isabella announced a company dinner, booking out the entire exclusive Starlight Room. "Darling," she purred to Roman, "tonight is your welcome party." "I'm sorry, Ms. Monroe," I whispered, stepping close to her. "I'm not feeling well. I think I'll skip tonight." The chronic stomach pain I’d developed over the years was so intense that a cold sweat had broken out on my forehead. She glanced at me and sneered. "Oh, stop pretending. I know you're just bitter. From now on, just do whatever you want." Then she linked her arm through Roman’s and walked away, laughing and chatting with him. I could feel the pitying stares of my colleagues. I lowered my head and smiled a small, broken smile to myself. Do whatever I want? The contempt and impatience in her eyes made it clear she saw me as nothing more than a buzzkill. Do whatever I want? A mocking smirk played on my lips as I watched the cheerful crowd depart, feeling like a complete outsider. My face was pale. I couldn't stand any longer. Clutching my stomach, I collapsed to the floor. Suddenly, a panicked voice cried out. "Liam! Oh my god, what's wrong?" I looked up. It was Eloise, Isabella's best friend, who had been living abroad for years. "You… you're back?" She rushed to my side and helped me up. "Where's Bella?" Clutching my stomach, I managed to say, "They went out for a company dinner. I…" "A dinner? You're in this much pain, and she just left you here?" I waved a dismissive hand, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. If you're looking for her, she's probably at the Starlight Room by now." "The Starlight Room?" 3 Her brow furrowed at my words, but she said nothing, simply helping me downstairs. As I settled into the passenger seat of her sports car, I asked, puzzled, "Are you going to find her?" She started the engine, shook her head, and smiled at me. "No. I came back for you." Twenty minutes later, we were at the hospital. I was diagnosed with a severe stomach ulcer. At Eloise's insistence, I was admitted. Watching her bustle around, taking care of everything, I was deeply moved. "Here, have some soup." She sat by my hospital bed, feeding me spoonful by spoonful. "Ahem, Eloise," I started, "you said you came back for me, you…" She seemed to remember something and pulled an IOU from her purse. "This is…" I stared at the paper, stunned. "Heh. This is for that $500,000 you borrowed," she said. "How do you have this?" Seeing my shocked expression, a triumphant look crossed her face. Then, right in front of me, she tore the half-a-million-dollar note into tiny pieces. "You—?" I never expected her to do that. She looked at me, her expression serious. "Now, the debt isn't about money. It's a matter of the heart." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was right. If she’d kept the IOU, she would have been my creditor. A simple financial transaction. But by tearing it up, she had transformed it from a monetary figure into a heavy, intangible debt of gratitude. They say the hardest debts to repay are the ones you owe your parents, and the ones you owe the heart. "How did you know about the loan?" I asked, my head bowed, my thoughts in turmoil. If anyone knew the true extent of my sacrifices back then, it was the woman sitting in front of me. She had tried to convince me to go abroad with her, but I chose to stay. Looking back now… "Thank you," I murmured. She smiled and took my hand in hers. Just then, my phone rang. It was Isabella. "Liam, come and pick me up right now." Hearing her commanding tone, I fought back a wave of rage. "I can't," I said coldly, and hung up. The phone immediately rang again. "Liam, have I been too nice to you? Get your ass over here, now. We've all been drinking." I let out a bitter laugh. "Isabella," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "am I your slave?" There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by a furious shriek. "Liam, you get here right now, or you don't bother coming in tomorrow!" I glanced at Eloise, then replied calmly, "Fine. I'll come in tomorrow to handle my resignation."
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