He Said I Was Nothing, So I Left with Everything

On my third day at the new job, Sullivan showed up at my apartment. He was waiting outside the building.

It was just after eight that evening. I was coming home with a bag from the convenience store when I spotted his black Land Rover parked right in front of the building entrance. Impossible to miss.

The car door opened, and Sullivan stepped out in a dark gray coat—and the scarf I'd given him on my birthday last year. That was deliberate. He wanted me to notice.

"Get in the car. We need to talk."

I didn't move.

"Amira, you've been playing the rebel lately. Ignoring my calls, not answering my texts, refusing to take down the listing for our future home, and switching jobs without a word. You think you can just do whatever you want now?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to bring you home. I'm giving you a way to back down, so take it. Don't make me say something ugly."

My grip tightened around the plastic bag.

"Sullivan, there's nothing left to talk about."

"Nothing to talk about? Why didn't you say that when you listed our future home with the realtor?"

His voice dropped low, simmering with barely controlled anger.

"I put eight hundred thousand yuan down on that house."

"Eight hundred thousand yuan? Amira, stop making things up. That money came from your parents. What does that have to do with you?"

My parents had pooled their life savings to help with that down payment, but the way he told it, I'd had nothing to do with it.

"And the mortgage? Four years now—twelve thousand yuan a month—every cent pulled straight from my account."

"You pay the mortgage with your salary? Then what about the money I send you every month?"

Every month, he transferred three thousand yuan into my account and called it an allowance.

In this city, three thousand yuan barely covered food alone.

I used my salary to keep up with the mortgage, and used the three thousand yuan he gave me to buy groceries and cook. Any money left over went into the household.

In six years, I hadn't bought myself a single piece of clothing that cost more than five hundred yuan.

Meanwhile, his new girl carried a bag worth over ten thousand yuan and wore outfits I couldn't justify buying for myself.

"Sullivan, what exactly are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying cut the drama and come home."

He reached for my arm.

I stepped back.

"I'm not going back."

His hand froze in midair, and his expression shifted.

That look—I'd seen it before, during our worst fights.

Once, that look would've made me cave first.

Not this time.

"Amira, do you really think Colter can give you anything?"

For a second, I was too stunned to speak.

"You think I don't know? He helped you move out. He got you that job."

"What's going on between you two? Spell it out."

I searched his face, and suddenly he felt like a stranger.

He had a pregnant college girl on his arm. He'd made bets with his friends about how long it would take me to crawl back to him. His mother helped him make up lies, and his friends ran a betting pool.

And now he stood here, demanding answers about my relationship with someone else.

"Why do you even care what my relationship with him is?"

Sullivan's face went completely dark.

"Fine, Amira. You've got guts, I'll give you that."

He turned, climbed back into the car, and the SUV roared off, disappearing around the corner.

I stood there for a long time.

Then my phone rang. It was Aliya.

"Amira, I just saw Sullivan at the office. He's throwing a fit—breaking things. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Amira, there's something else you should know. Don't freak out."

"That college girl came to the office today. Sullivan had someone issue her a temporary staff badge and said she was there as an intern."