He Realized My Worth, But I Chose Saving Lives

When I walked into the house, I first noticed the warm laughter from the kitchen. It wasn't the usual hum of dinner prep but something lively, something… intimate. I hesitated, my hand still on the door, before stepping inside.

Sabrina was busy sorting vegetables, her laughter light and musical, while Michael, ever the perfectionist, meticulously sliced steak on the counter. Their conversation flowed so easily, back and forth, a duet I wasn't a part of.

They jumped from topic to topic—fashion design, art, Paris, Milan, the high-flying world of haute couture. They seemed to glow in the exchange, lost in their shared interests. I couldn't help but feel like an outsider, even in my own home.

Then, the topic shifted. Audrey Hepburn.

Sabrina's voice softened, almost reverent. "I don't think Hepburn leaving her husband and child was wrong. Honestly, I admire the courage it took to sacrifice for her ideals at a time when women weren't supposed to. She was so exceptional that even the United Nations chose her."

Michael nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're right. That kind of excellence isn't easy to come by."

Her eyes flicked up to him, her gaze lingering on his face like it was an art she couldn't stop appreciating. "I've been Noah's Music teacher for two years now. How much longer do you plan to keep me in that role?"

The sound of his knife stopped abruptly. His hand froze, but he said nothing.

Sabrina's expression faltered, her voice trembling slightly as she pressed on. "Eliza isn't the one for you. You know that. You two married because it made sense for your families, but there was no real connection. She was already an accomplished doctor before meeting you—she didn't need your help or your name."

Michael set down the knife, exhaling heavily as he rubbed his temples. "Enough, Sabrina. That's enough."

But she wasn't done. Sabrina continued, "I'm not like her. I could give up everything for you. I'd change my entire life to match yours. I understand you better than anyone else, or even she does."

His jaw tightened, his voice low but firm. "Sabrina, please don't."

But Sabrina wasn't backing down. She dropped the vegetables she held and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

Her voice broke, brimming with desperation. "For you, I said no to Paris Fashion Week. I closed my Milan studio. I stayed here, humbling myself as Noah's tutor, pretending it didn't matter. But it does! Two years, Yuanshan. I've been here, right in front of you. I know you feel it too—what we had and could still have. We used to love each other so fiercely. How can you pretend that wasn't real?"

The room felt suffocating. Sabrina's words and emotions were sharp and raw. I looked down at the floor, trying to tune it out, trying not to let it get to me.

But it did.

Even after all this time, my heart ached at the sight of him—Michael, a man I had loved with everything I had for so many years.

I wondered, briefly, if Sabrina knew the truth about our marriage. She thought it was a cold, calculated arrangement born from mutual benefit. She didn't know the sacrifices I had made just to be the woman he would notice.

He loved haute couture, so I immersed myself in fashion styling.

He loved Italian food, so I spent three years in Rome learning to perfect every dish.

He loved wine, so I trained myself to recognize every note and hint, even when the acidity burned my stomach and left me doubled over in pain at night.

For ten years, I studied him. His tastes. His preferences.

His every like and dislike. From the bright, sterile halls of medical school to the sharp, tailored suits of the business world, I constructed myself into someone he couldn't ignore.

And eventually, it worked. Michael's family began pushing him to marry, and he looked at me—really looked at me. One night, he approached me with an offer I had dreamed of for years.

"Eliza," he said, calm but confident, "our lives align in many ways. Our interests, our philosophies—they match perfectly. If you're willing, I'd like to marry you."

I remember standing there, feeling like my entire world had stopped spinning. I didn't dare accept too quickly—I couldn't seem desperate—but I also knew this was my moment. He wanted a poised, intellectual woman. Someone graceful yet grounded. And I had spent years perfecting that version of myself.

That night, I didn't sleep a wink. But the next day, I gave him my answer.

Three simple words.