Ever since my wife got that new job, everything has started to feel… different.
She used to be gentle and attentive, someone who stuck by me through the ups and downs of our small startup. After I was hospitalized for a few weeks and our finances got tight, she decided to send out a few résumés.
To our surprise, the first one got her in—a position at a major international company.
Her starting salary was already higher than what I made during my best years. Her manager told her she had real potential, and in just a few months, she was promoted to team lead. She’d come home talking about office life I barely understood. She always smiled and said, “My director really believes in me. He’s been mentoring me a lot.”
That director came to our home once for what he called a “developmental interview.”
I remember that day clearly. He wore a crisp suit, brought two bottles of artisanal sparkling drinks, and sat straight-backed in our living room, speaking in calm, measured tones. He said my wife was “the top performer of the quarter” and a “rising star worth investing in.”
I was proud of her—genuinely proud.
But I also started growing quieter.
She got busier. She came home later. Sometimes, she had meetings until midnight. Sometimes, she stayed out for team dinners. She once joked, “You’re not getting jealous, are you? I’m the only female supervisor—they all take good care of me.”
I shook my head with a forced smile. “You’re doing great. Really.”
But after she went to bed, I’d quietly pull out our old notebook—the one where we used to sketch plans for our dream: opening a cozy little café together. She was still flying toward that future… while I remained stuck in place.
I started wondering: what kind of world is she part of now? Are her words, her thoughts, drifting away from me?
I didn’t distrust her. I wasn’t angry.
But I did start to doubt myself:
Do I still deserve her?
One evening, she came home very late. She looked a little tipsy. She told me the team had a long dinner, and her director walked her downstairs afterward. He mentioned wanting her to take a position abroad someday.
She sat at the dining table, still in her gray sleeveless dress, looking tired, yet glowing with ambition. I said nothing. I quietly gathered the cups off the table, my chest tight.
It wasn’t that she’d changed—it was that I hadn’t.
That night, I sat alone in the living room for a long time.
Eventually, I opened my laptop, logged into an old career site, and found that design course I once considered. I hovered over the “Enroll” button for a few seconds… then clicked.
She wasn’t flying away from me—she was flying ahead of us.
And now, it’s time I started moving too.
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