I Funded Her Dream, He Got the Feast

For ten years, I stood by Natalie Prescott as she went from having nothing to her name to building a fortune worth hundreds of millions. Yet in all that time, she never once takes me to a restaurant where a meal costs more than 100 dollars per person. With our tenth anniversary approaching, I finally send her a link to a high-end steakhouse I've had bookmarked for ages, hoping we can celebrate somewhere special for once. But the moment she sees it, her expression darkens. "Gabriel, I know we're doing well now, but we can't afford to get complacent. We need to remember where we came from. Frugality is a virtue, and we can't lose sight of that." She has a point, I tell myself, so I drop the subject without another word. It isn't until I go to cancel our reservation that I spot Natalie sitting across from a young man in the very restaurant she refuses to take me to. She's cutting his steak into bite-sized pieces and placing them on his plate, then gently wiping a smear of sauce from the corner of his mouth. I recognize him immediately—Ryan Mitchell, the company's newest intern. He's only 21. "Ms. Prescott, I really can't eat another bite," Ryan says, glancing at the spread of food on the table. "But look at how much we've ordered. We're wasting so much food." "Don't worry about it. As long as you're enjoying yourself, it's not a waste." Natalie gazes at him with unmistakable affection. "I'll just take the leftovers home to Gabriel." "But… they're my leftovers." Natalie laughs softly. "It's fine. Gabriel is with me when times are tough. He's not picky." Ryan chuckles. "So let me get this straight. He sticks around for the hard times, and I get to enjoy the good life?" Natalie doesn't answer right away. For a long moment, she simply looks at him. Then she finally murmurs, "Yeah." I stand frozen, gripping the reservation slip so tightly that my nails dig into my palm. Yet somehow, I can't feel a thing. Ten years. I spend ten years standing by her side—helping her build the life she has now—only to discover that, in her eyes, I'm the man who has to settle for scraps while someone else gets to enjoy the rewards. The hostess approaches me with a polite smile. "Mr. Cole, reservations have been hard to come by lately. Are you sure you'd like to cancel yours?" I swallow the bitterness rising in my throat and glance at the couple across the room one more time. Then I turn back to the hostess. "No. Keep the reservation. And please bring me your most expensive tasting menu." Chapter 1 Gabriel's POV By the time I took my seat, Natalie Prescott, my girlfriend, had already left the restaurant with Ryan Mitchell, her new intern. From my table upstairs, I could clearly see them standing together on the sidewalk, their fingers intertwined. A breeze swept down the street. Ryan unwound his cashmere scarf and gently draped it around Natalie's neck before opening her car door. Then he reached into the back seat and pulled out a massive bouquet of blue roses. I couldn't hear what he said, but Natalie covered her mouth in delighted surprise before throwing her arms around him and kissing him. A few blue petals drifted to the ground. I'd seen those roses before in a wedding planning magazine. I still remembered reading their meaning aloud when Natalie and I had flipped through it together. "A once-in-a-lifetime miracle. An irreplaceable spark of love." I'd been so taken with the idea that I'd turned to her and said, "Natalie, let's use blue roses at our wedding, too!" She hadn't even looked up from what she was doing. "They're impractical and overpriced. There's no point wasting money on something like that." After that, I'd never bring it up again. The wedding magazine had long since been shoved into a drawer, where it sat forgotten, gathering dust. Yet the blue roses I'd once dreamed of having at our wedding were now in Natalie's arms, given to her by another man. Ryan was just an intern, after all. There was no way he could afford a bouquet like that on his salary. The money had almost certainly come from Natalie herself. So it wasn't that blue roses were too expensive or not worth the money. It was simply that I wasn't worth spending that money on, even though I was supposed to be the man she'd marry. When the server brought out my food, she glanced down at Natalie and Ryan, who still seemed reluctant to say goodbye, and smiled enviously. "Ms. Prescott and Mr. Mitchell are so sweet together. They come here every Saturday. When Mr. Mitchell first started coming, he didn't even know how to use a knife and fork properly. Ms. Prescott taught him herself, step by step." "Every Saturday?" I asked, stunned. "Yep! Mr. Mitchell really loves our food, and Ms. Prescott always leaves us a generous tip whenever they come in. That's why I remember them so well." She finished setting down my order. One steak sat in front of me, while the other had been placed on the empty seat across from me. I cut off a piece and put it in my mouth. The steak tasted unbearably bitter, but I forced myself to swallow it anyway. I knew exactly where that bitterness was coming from. Last Saturday, I had a high fever that wouldn't come down. I texted Natalie and asked her to bring home a bottle of electrolyte water. Her reply was brief. "Drinking more warm water will help more than anything else." The Saturday before that, a pipe had sprung a leak at home, and I'd asked her for help. "Just handle it yourself." I knew she was busy, so I hadn't pushed. I'd gone to the hardware store to buy a wrench and fixed the pipe myself when I got back. I just hadn't realized what she'd been so busy doing. She'd been spending every Saturday playing out a romantic fantasy with a younger man while I sat at home, believing her excuses and telling myself I should be more understanding. The bitterness creeping up my throat dragged me back to the present. I lowered my head and mechanically cut into my steak, forcing down one bite after another. I swallowed each mouthful along with the ache in my chest, as though eating enough could somehow make up for everything I'd lost. Somehow, I couldn't shake the thought that if I ate enough, at least I wouldn't be the only one getting the short end of the stick. My phone vibrated, and a message from Natalie lit up the screen. "Where are you? Why isn't anyone home?" When Natalie was building her business from the ground up, I gave up my own career to support hers. I'd handled everything behind the scenes so she could focus on work, from managing the household to the little things she never had time for. She never bothered carrying a house key when she went out. She didn't need one. No matter how late she came home, I was always there to let her in. I replied, "I'm celebrating our anniversary." She sent back a question mark, then quickly deleted it. A moment later, another message appeared. "Whatever you're doing, get home now. I have a business trip tomorrow." The meaning behind her words was obvious. She wanted me to come home and pack her bags for her. I didn't bother replying. Instead, I muted her notifications and returned to my meal. The restaurant glittered under the warm lights, with couples sitting close together at tables all around me. I was the only one shamelessly devouring a meal meant for two, all by myself. The steak, which had cost hundreds of dollars, slid down my throat without the slightest hint of flavor, leaving nothing but bitterness behind. I kept eating until the restaurant closed. Only then did I finally head home. When I arrived, Natalie's car was already gone. On the front steps sat a neatly packed container of steak, a quiet reminder that she'd been home at some point. Chapter 2 Gabriel's POV I picked up the container of steak and tossed it into the trash as I went inside. Upstairs, the pipe on the second floor was leaking again. A drop of cold water landed on the tip of my nose, making me flinch. The house was enormous, with five floors in total. Natalie had once called it a gift for me, saying she wanted to make up for the ten years I'd spent struggling alongside her. But when it came to the deed, only her name was on it. I was left to handle everything else, from the renovations to the daily housework. Natalie claimed she wasn't comfortable having strangers in our home, so I was the one who mopped the floors, washed the dishes, changed the lightbulbs, and fixed the toilets. No matter how big the house was or how much money she made, I was always responsible for keeping it running. Now, as water continued dripping steadily from the ceiling, I stood beneath the leak and stared at the growing puddle on the floor. For the first time, I couldn't even bring myself to clean it up. I sank onto the couch, utterly exhausted. Just then, my best friend, Andrew Parker, called. "Gabe, have you and Natalie set a wedding date yet? I'm coming back from overseas to be your best man!" My fingers tightened around my phone. After a long silence, I finally answered, "We're not getting married." "What? Why the hell not?" Andrew exploded. "You turned down an offer from a music conservatory overseas just to help Natalie build her business. You spent all these years using the hands that were meant to play the violin to cook and clean for her instead. "And now, after everything you've sacrificed, when you're finally supposed to enjoy the fruits of your labor, you're calling off the wedding? Have you lost your mind?" Andrew kept ranting on the other end, furious on my behalf, but I didn't argue or defend myself. I just sat there quietly, listening until he'd finally run out of things to say. Then I spoke in a calm, almost detached voice. "I had steak for dinner tonight." "What?" He paused, clearly thrown by the sudden change of subject. "It cost 500 dollars a serving," I continued. "But somehow, it didn't taste half as good as the five-dollar sandwiches we used to eat in our rented apartment back in the day." Andrew fell silent. For a long time, neither of us said a word. When he finally spoke again, his voice had softened. "Gabe, whatever you decide, I'll support you. The orchestra I'm with in Aurelia has an opening for a violinist. If you're ready to play again, you can come join us here." "Thank you, Andy." I clutched the hem of my shirt, fighting to keep my emotions in check. For the first time in years, someone reminded me there was still a life waiting for me beyond Natalie. The moment we hung up, a trending post from a local social media account popped up in my notifications. Almost without thinking, I tapped on it. The post showed Ryan standing along the brightly lit banks of Southland Creek, grinning triumphantly as he held Natalie in his arms. Behind them, a massive screen mounted on a nearby building flashed a message in bold letters—"Happy Birthday to My Dearest Ryan!" The comments were already flooding in. "What's going on here? Did I just stumble across some rich guy's grand romantic gesture?" one person wrote. Another chimed in, "Who's behind this? I heard it costs 1,000 dollars a minute to advertise on that screen. That's an insane amount of money!" Then Natalie joined the conversation. "May my boy always be happy and free of worries!" she wrote. Ryan replied almost immediately. "Let's walk the road to a beautiful future together!" A tear slipped down my cheek and splashed onto my phone screen, blurring the dazzling lights into tiny halos. I wiped it away, then stared at Natalie's profile picture, my finger hovering over it. The background was familiar—the same rough linen curtain that had hung in our old rented apartment, its faded beige fabric frozen in time. We'd bought that curtain back when money was tight because it was cheap, but the quality was terrible. One night, Natalie complained that too much light seeped through it, making it difficult for her to sleep. That very night, I dug out a piece of thick fabric and sat on the floor, stitching the two pieces together by hand. I worked until dawn, pricking my fingers more than once before finally turning the flimsy curtain into a proper blackout curtain. When I hung it up the next morning, Natalie wandered over, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around me and whispered in my ear, "Gabe, you're so good to me. When I make it big someday, I'll put you in charge of all my assets." I laughed as I tugged at the rough linen. "All I want is for you never to forget the days we struggled together in this little apartment, beneath this curtain." From that day on, Natalie had kept the curtain as her profile picture. Through all the years that followed, she'd never changed it. I'd always thought it was her way of holding on to the memories we'd made together, a quiet reminder of where we'd started and how far we'd come. But now, with that very same picture still on her profile, she was publicly promising another man a future together. Staring at the screen, I finally understood. Whatever Natalie and I had once shared, I was the only one still holding on to it. She'd already chosen someone else, and no amount of love or sacrifice could change that. It was time for me to walk away. Chapter 3 Gabriel's POV I rose slowly and made my way down to the basement, where an old violin had gathered dust in the corner for years. I took it out, opened the case, and ran my fingers over the strings. When I drew the bow across them, a clear, beautiful note filled the room. My nose tingled, and my eyes began to burn. I hadn't expected the violin to sound so beautiful after all these years. When Natalie's business was on the verge of collapse, I took this very violin to local bars and pubs, playing for tips to help her stay afloat. Each performance earned me eight dollars. Night after night, song after song, I kept playing until those meager earnings added up to 10,000 dollars—enough to help Natalie survive the darkest period of her life. Now, after all these years, I was picking up the violin again. Only this time, I wasn't playing to save someone else or sacrificing everything I had for a future that might never come. This time, I was doing it for myself. … The next morning, a series of furious knocks at the door jolted me awake. The moment I opened it, Natalie swept inside, kicking off her shoes as she snapped, "Where the hell were you last night? How could you just leave me locked out of my own house?" I didn't bother answering. Instead, I lowered my head and carefully packed my violin into its case. When I didn't reach for her coat like I usually did, Natalie finally looked me over. "Why are you digging out all this junk?" she asked, glancing at the violin. "It's trash. Just throw it away." Junk… Trash… Was that all it meant to her? I lifted my head and met her eyes. "When you say junk, are you talking about the violin or me?" Natalie froze for a moment, then gave me a puzzled look. "What's gotten into you today? Are you sick or something?" She paused, then added impatiently, "Have you packed my bags yet?" "No." I picked up the violin case and walked into the kitchen. "I'm leaving on a business trip this afternoon!" she called after me. "You can pack your own bags. I'm tired." I switched on the coffee maker, and soon the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. Natalie came over and held out her hand, waiting for me to pour her a cup as I always did. Instead, I poured myself one and took a slow sip, letting the warmth seep into my hands and ease the chill that had settled deep in my chest. Natalie stared at me before letting out an exasperated sigh. "You sit around the house all day. I honestly don't know what you could possibly be tired from. You're always getting in the way of things that actually matter!" With that, she turned and headed upstairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen. Just then, the tablet on the marble counter lit up with a notification confirming that the flight tickets had been issued successfully. I glanced at the screen and saw two first-class tickets to Mount Evercrest, booked under the names Natalie Prescott and Ryan Mitchell. So this was what she meant by things that actually mattered. She wasn't going on a business trip. She was going to Mount Evercrest with Ryan. Ten years ago, I'd performed "Under Mount Evercrest" on my violin at our university's freshman welcome party. That was the day Natalie fell in love with me at first sight. Back when we were struggling to make ends meet in our tiny rented apartment, we often survived on nothing but sandwiches. Whenever footage of couples taking their wedding photos at Mount Evercrest appeared on TV, the song "Under Mount Evercrest" would play in the background. Natalie would fish the slice of ham out of her sandwich and drop it onto my plate, smiling as she said, "Gabe, I'll work hard, I promise. One day, we'll go to Mount Evercrest and take our wedding photos there." But when I'd brought it up again years later, she'd only frowned. "It's so far away, and it'll cost a fortune. What's the point of traveling all that way? We can just have a studio photoshop the background. It'll look exactly the same." Now, looking at those two first-class tickets to Mount Evercrest, I finally understood—it wasn't that the trip was too expensive or too much trouble. She simply didn't think it was worth making that journey with me. The realization settled over me like a cold blanket. I pulled out my phone and called the photography studio to cancel our wedding photo package. By the time I hung up, Natalie was already coming downstairs. She glanced at my phone, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why did you cancel our wedding photos?" she asked. "I don't want them anymore," I replied. "What about the wedding?" "I don't want one." "Why?" She looked confused. "There's no point." Natalie studied me for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what had gotten into me. Then she finally nodded. "You're right. We've been together for so long, we're practically married already. There's no need to go through all that trouble." I turned to face her and met her gaze directly. "Natalie?" "Hmm?" "What would you do if I left you someday?" For a second, she simply stared at me. Then she burst out laughing, as though I'd just told her the funniest joke she'd ever heard. "Gabriel, we've been together for ten years. I've taken care of you this entire time. I pay the bills, put a roof over your head, and make sure you have everything you need. Where would you even go without me? And who else would want you?" Her words cut deeper than she could ever imagine. Every sentence felt like a knife driven straight into my chest, exposing the truth I'd spent years refusing to face. This was how she'd always seen me—someone who owed her everything, someone who had nowhere else to go and no choice but to stay. She was so certain I'd never leave her that she'd never even considered the possibility that I might. In her eyes, I was already hers, bound to her by ten years of dependence and sacrifice. My eyes stung, and I had to swallow hard to keep the ache in my throat from spilling over. Still, I managed to speak in a quiet voice. "Natalie, we…" Before I could finish, the doorbell rang. Chapter 4 Gabriel's POV Natalie hurried to the door. The moment she opened it, Ryan greeted her with a charming smile and a playful wink. "Ms. Prescott, I'm all ready to go!" Natalie rested one hand against the door while nervously twisting the hem of her shirt with the other. I knew that gesture all too well. When we first met, she did the same thing whenever she got shy around me. Ryan glanced past her and spotted me inside. "Hey, could you grab me a pair of slippers?" I froze. "What?" The moment Ryan realized his mistake, he clapped a hand over his mouth and made an exaggerated face of panic. "Oh! Mr. Cole, I'm so sorry! I mistook you for someone else. I'm really, really sorry!" He kept apologizing until Natalie finally cut him off. "It's fine. You didn't do anything wrong." She said it so casually, as if there were nothing to apologize for. He'd done nothing wrong. So who was to blame? Me? I glanced at my reflection in the mirror across the room. My eyes were bloodshot, my lips pale, and my hair a mess. I was still wearing the same pajamas I'd had for five years, looking every bit like the pathetic man Ryan had mistaken me for. "It's getting colder. Aren't you worried about catching a cold?" Natalie asked, tugging Ryan's collar up. Ryan let out a playful huff. "But deep V-necks are in right now! It's called fashion. Isn't that right, Mr. Cole?" He suddenly turned to me and dragged me into the conversation. Before I could respond, Natalie scoffed. "What would he know about fashion? He's just a househusband who sits around doing nothing all day." Ryan burst out laughing, and heat rushed to my face. I clenched my jaw, fighting with everything I had to keep my tears from falling. After ten years together, this was what I'd become in Natalie's eyes—a useless man who contributed nothing and knew nothing, someone she could dismiss without a second thought. The two of them picked up their suitcases and headed for the door. I hurried after them and held out the house key to Natalie. "Take this." She glanced at the key, then looked at me in confusion. "Why?" I didn't answer. I simply held it out a little farther, waiting for her to take it. Natalie stared at me, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something. For a brief moment, I thought she might finally ask what was going on. Then Ryan sneezed softly. Natalie immediately turned toward him, her attention shifting in an instant. The door slammed shut in my face, missing my outstretched hand by barely an inch. Natalie hadn't hesitated for even a second. She hadn't even looked back. I stood there for a moment, trying to swallow the hurt, before finally turning and dragging myself upstairs. Natalie had been home for barely a morning, yet she'd already left the entire house a mess. Her discarded socks lay on the nightstand, half-eaten toast sat on the table, and her used towel was crumpled beside the bathroom sink. She'd even noticed the leaking pipe but hadn't bothered to do anything about it. Wet footprints trailed from the bathroom into the bedroom, across the study, and all the way down the stairs. Normally, I'd have spent the next hour cleaning up after her without a word. This time, I didn't lift a finger. Instead, I called a cleaning service and let someone else deal with the mess for once. While the cleaners worked, I started packing my belongings. As I reached into the study drawer for my passport, I came across a notebook I'd never seen before. Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened it to find page after page filled with meticulous notes about Ryan and all the money Natalie planned to spend on him. "Ryan's birthday celebration—Budget: 200,000 dollars." "Trip to Mount Evercrest with Ryan—Budget: 300,000 dollars." "Take Ryan to an auction house—Budget: 5 million dollars." The list went on and on, each entry more extravagant than the last. I flipped through the pages, searching for my name, and finally found a single line buried among all those detailed plans. "Household expenses—Monthly budget: 3,000 dollars." I couldn't help letting out a bitter laugh. Natalie had no trouble spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on Ryan or setting aside millions for his entertainment. Yet when it came to me, all I was worth was a small monthly allowance to cover household expenses. In her eyes, I wasn't a partner she'd spent ten years building a life with. I was just someone who kept her house running, someone she could take for granted because she never thought I'd leave. I closed the notebook and put it back in the drawer. By the time I'd finished packing and arranged to move my belongings, the clock had struck the hour. Meanwhile, Ryan kept flooding Twitter with new photos of himself and Natalie, from the two of them embracing beneath cherry blossom trees to sharing kisses in front of snow-covered mountains. Each post seemed designed to show off how happy they were together, and I couldn't help but wonder how long they'd been planning all this behind my back. His latest post was even more brazen. In the photo, Ryan wore a sharp suit and was down on one knee, holding up a ring to Natalie, who stood before him in a wedding dress. The caption read, "You spent years guarding Mount Evercrest, but now she's mine and mine alone." The message was unmistakable. Ryan wasn't just flaunting his relationship with Natalie. He was making a point of rubbing it in my face, as if he wanted me to know he'd taken the place I'd spent ten years trying to earn. I'd thought seeing something like this would leave me furious, humiliated, or heartbroken. But when I pressed a hand to my chest, I realized the pain I'd expected never came. Maybe I'd finally cried enough. Maybe I'd simply reached the point where there was nothing left to lose. I turned off my phone and slowly got to my feet. Before leaving, I slipped my key beneath the doormat and took one last look at the house I'd called home for nearly two years. Then I turned around and walked away without looking back. … Third Person's POV Several days later, Natalie finally stumbled across Ryan's wedding photo on Twitter. A twinge of unease stirred in her chest as she stared at the post. She wanted to ask him to take it down, but before she could say anything, Ryan leaned toward her with a bright smile. "Don't I look handsome in this picture?" Seeing how happy he was, Natalie swallowed the words on the tip of her tongue and forced a smile. "You look great." She was still trying to figure out how to explain everything to Gabriel when she got home, but then a post from one of his friends caught her attention. "Let's welcome violinist Gabriel Cole to the orchestra!" The post included a photo of a familiar figure playing the violin, completely lost in the music. Natalie's eyes widened as she recognized him. Even more unmistakable was the building in the background—the Royal Bay Opera House.