I’m Done Pampering Him, Time to Get Rich

My relationship with Asher was a classic older woman, younger man pairing. When he was a bright eyed freshman, I was a senior about to graduate. By his junior year, I’d already been working for two years. A younger boyfriend brought boundless energy—from our private moments to daily life. Once, after working until 11 p.m., I dragged myself home only for him to excitedly suggest a miles long hike to watch New Year’s fireworks. Another time, following a month of dizzying business travel, he insisted we go rave at a music festival all night. I couldn’t do it. I told him I was too tired and just wanted to sleep. His face fell, his voice turning threatening. “We haven’t seen each other in a month, and this is your attitude?” Then the ultimatum: “Fine. We’re done. Go wherever you want.” Logically, I knew he was just angry and I should apologize. But I stood silent for a long moment, then hailed a cab. “Then let’s break up,” I whispered. It turns out, when you’re pushed past exhaustion, what you thought was love doesn’t seem so important anymore. 1. The air outside the airport terminal was biting cold. I stood by the curb for nearly twenty minutes before a cab finally pulled over. The driver took one look at my pale face and asked if I needed to go to the hospital. I just shook my head, my hands trembling as I fumbled for my painkillers. No water. I just choked them down dry. Period pain tore through my nerves, a vicious, tearing thing. Waves of blackness swam at the edges of my vision. I glanced at my phone. Not a single missed call. Asher had told me to fend for myself, and he meant it, leaving me stranded on the side of the road. I could still see the ugly look on his face as he left. After I’d said we should break up, he stared at me for a long moment, then gave a bitter twist of his lips. “Fine. Just don’t you come to regret this.” He was right. I did regret it. I regretted agreeing to let him pick me up, only to be kicked out of his car halfway home. If I had just gotten a cab right after landing, I’d be in my pajamas by now, tucked warm and safe in my bed. Instead, here I was, battered by the freezing wind for half an hour, luggage in hand, so cold I felt like I was going to freeze on the spot. Who wouldn’t regret that? 2. It was an age-gap romance. The year I graduated, he was just a freshman. He saw me in the university library, and that was it. A classic case of love at first sight, and he relentlessly pursued me until I said yes. We’d been together for three years. The first year, despite juggling my thesis and internships, was pretty smooth. We went hiking, on dates, to the movies, even took a road trip to the next state over. But the second year, after I was hired on full-time, work got intense. The cracks in our seemingly perfect romance began to show. Asher started complaining that I was blowing him off, demanding to know why I wasn't texting back instantly. “Even if you’re in a meeting, can’t you just sneak a look at your phone?” He thought my boss was like a college professor, willing to turn a blind eye to a little slacking off. “I have a basketball tournament tomorrow. I don’t care what you have to do, you have to be there. For all three days. Just take the time off.” He had no idea that taking time off meant losing pay, not to mention my perfect attendance bonus. He didn’t understand that getting a manager to approve vacation time was harder than getting blood from a stone. For that tournament, I lost out on a three-thousand-dollar bonus. When I set my alarm for 7 a.m. and needed to be asleep by midnight, he’d pester me to stay up all night playing video games with him, completely oblivious to the fact that I had to work the next day. If I didn't check my phone for an hour during the workday, I’d come back to a dozen videos he’d forwarded, each one requiring a personalized, non-generic reply. After a draining day of negotiating with clients, I’d still have to spend an hour on a video call with him at night. My friends all envied me for having a young, handsome, and clingy boyfriend. And I believed it too, that I was the one who was lucky in this relationship. I was three years older than Asher; I told myself I should be more patient, more accommodating. So, even if it meant running on three or four hours of sleep and enduring a splitting headache the next day, I’d still go on that multi-mile hike to a lake with him. We’d watch the fireworks, ticking off the ceremonial boxes of young love just like every other couple. Even after a week of non-stop overtime, when all I wanted to do on the weekend was sleep, I’d drag myself to parties with him or go on hikes that racked up thirty thousand steps. The second year passed in a blur of me placating him and forcing myself to keep up. But the third year was different. I got promoted. The job became even more demanding. There were times I simply couldn’t take a day off. Pressure from upper management, competition with other teams, I was often so busy I’d forget to even drink a sip of water all day. I’d get home after ten at night, too exhausted to even wash my face, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed. But a young man’s energy is relentless. And once his appetite is whetted, he's always hungry. Slowly, Asher’s dissatisfaction with me grew, and our fights became more frequent. Every time we argued, he’d resort to the silent treatment, using the threat of breaking up as his ultimate weapon. He was young and impulsive, and I was usually the one to cave first, to apologize and make peace. But after a while, even that started to wear me down. I had bought him a gift, planning to find the right time to sit down with him and have a real talk. I loved him. I wanted us to have a future. I just never imagined that before I could even give him the gift, we’d be over. And this time, I was the one who ended it. 3. I woke up the next day, took another painkiller, and felt some of the bone-deep weariness from the past few weeks begin to fade. I picked up my phone, my thumb hovering over Asher's contact photo. A pang of regret hit me. I knew he was just lashing out, and I had let myself get dragged into his childish game. It was so immature of me, bickering with a guy three years my junior. I carefully typed out a message: “I’m sorry. I know how long you’ve been looking forward to the festival, but I just wasn’t feeling well at all.” “If it was a concert, I could at least sit down, but a festival means standing for hours. I couldn’t have lasted. I’m so sorry.” “I saw the festival is on for three days. My company gave me a week off after my trip, so how about I go with you tomorrow…” I hit send. A second later, a bright red exclamation point appeared next to my message. I stared at it, stunned. Oh, right. I’d forgotten. After every fight, he blocked me. Just then, my phone rang. It was Asher’s roommate. “Dude, what did you do to Asher now? His face is so grim it’s put a damn freeze on our entire dorm room. No one’s daring to even breathe.” Asher’s roommate never really liked me. Before we got together, girls vying for Asher’s attention would constantly bring them snacks and drinks, hoping they'd pass along his number. After Asher and I went public, all that stopped. “Do you have any idea how many girls at this school are after Asher? There are tons of them, all younger than you. You playing hard to get is just laughable. If you don’t apologize soon, you’re just waiting for someone to steal him from you.” He sent me a screenshot. It was a picture Asher had posted to his story a little while ago. The background was the music festival. A gorgeous, fiery girl was practically hanging off his arm. They were both grinning at the camera, their laughter as wild and free as the massive crowd behind them. I recognized the girl. Sienna, a freshman who’d become famous for her looks during orientation week. She’d fallen for Asher at first sight and had been chasing him relentlessly ever since. Just like Asher had chased me, back when he was a freshman. “It’s someone’s birthday this week. Sienna and Asher are both going to be there.” He sent me a time and an address, followed by a warning: “You’d better apologize, and fast. When Asher gets like this, he’ll really break up with you. You’re already lucky he’s with an older woman, don’t act like some little girl who needs to be coddled.” The familiar way he said her name, Sienna, didn’t escape me. It suddenly clicked why he was calling me. He didn’t want me and Asher to make up because he was a good guy trying to mediate. He just didn’t want Sienna to get her claws into Asher. Plenty of guys were after Sienna, just as many girls were after Asher. 4. Even though the company had given me a week off, work messages still trickled in, demanding my attention. I wearily shut my laptop and went to my closet to pick out an outfit. After some deliberation, I pulled out a white coat. Asher had never understood my wardrobe of black puffer jackets. He’d whine and pout, “Babe, please wear something nice for a change. You look so dull and drab every day, like a little crow. It’s kind of embarrassing to be seen with you.” He came from a wealthy family, had impeccable taste, and dressed like a model every day. And me? I’d been working for so long I’d mostly given up on makeup. I looked at myself in the mirror. The faint, bruised shadows under my eyes spoke of sleepless nights and mounting pressure. If it weren’t for this mandatory vacation, I wouldn’t even have the time to go and make peace with Asher. I changed, put on some makeup, and called a car. Before I left, I grabbed the gift I’d bought for our talk. No matter what, this was a relationship between adults. Whether we stayed together or broke up for good, it deserved a proper conversation. 5. The party was at a karaoke lounge. Someone led me to their private room. The people inside looked surprised to see me, but they quickly stepped aside. “Hey, Ash, your girlfriend’s here.” In the dim, flashing lights, Asher’s face was a dark storm cloud. He saw me, his eyes fixed on me for a moment before he spoke, his voice dripping with ice. “Girlfriend? I don’t know her. You must have the wrong room.” The atmosphere turned instantly awkward. Someone tried to smooth things over, mumbling about a little lovers’ quarrel as they pulled me in to sit down. The spot next to Asher was already taken by Sienna. She glanced at me and started to get up, but Asher’s hand shot out and pressed her back down. “Don’t move. Stay right there.” The energy in the room picked back up. A group of them started a rowdy drinking game. Asher, who had been sulking all night, suddenly seemed to find his spirit, pulling Sienna into the game with him. Sienna looked over at me, then tugged on Asher’s sleeve. “Your girlfriend is still here. Is this really okay?” Asher acted as if he’d just noticed I was in the room. He paused, then turned his head. He didn’t say a word, just spun his phone on the table, his gaze locked on me. It had been an hour since I’d walked in. The entire time, he’d only spoken to Sienna, acting as if I were invisible. I didn’t know anyone else in the room, and no one tried to talk to me. The loud, cheerful chaos had nothing to do with me. I was completely isolated. I could feel the weight of their gossiping glances, each one like a tiny needle pricking my skin. “Asher, I think we need to talk. We were both in the wrong…” No response. He turned away again, as if he hadn’t heard what he wanted to hear. I called his name a few more times. He seemed to snap, suddenly slamming his cards on the table, his voice cold and sharp. “If you’re not going to play, then get the hell out. Stop whining in here.” I fell silent. Then, I stood up. As I was leaving the room, I heard the sound of a glass shattering behind me. 6. I stood by the entrance for a few minutes, letting the cold air clear the secondhand smoke from my lungs. Right on cue, his roommate called. “Are you crazy? Why did you just walk out?” “He doesn’t want to talk to me.” I glanced down at the gift bag in my hand and suddenly felt how pointless this all was. Maybe I wanted to keep trying, but the other person had already given up. “Stay right there, don’t move. I’ll get him to come out and talk to you.” Five minutes later, Asher appeared in the doorway. But he wasn’t alone. Sienna was clinging to his arm. Her eyes were hazy, and she looked like she’d had way too much to drink. I stepped in front of Asher, pursing my lips as I held out the gift. “I was wrong the other night. It’s not that I didn’t want to go to the festival with you, I was just so tired after work.” Inside the box was a pair of newly released headphones. They cost over five thousand dollars, a bit of a splurge, but because they were for him, I’d bought them without a second thought. Sienna was completely drunk, mumbling and rubbing against him. To keep her steady, Asher practically had her cradled in his arms. Usually, Asher was a perfect gentleman around her, maintaining a clear boundary despite her very obvious pursuit. But now, he was letting her be this close, as if he was trying to prove a point to someone. I pushed on. “I know I’ve been neglecting you lately, but we can’t stay in that college dating phase forever.” “I can’t just quit my job, and I can’t take endless days off. I think we need to talk, really talk. In a relationship, you have to give each other some space…” Asher cut me off abruptly. “Why can’t you quit?” He glanced at the box in my hand and let out a short, harsh laugh. “Your job? You mean that pathetic job that barely pays you enough to afford this cheap crap? How much do you even make in a month? Is it really worth groveling and slaving away for them like that?” I always knew Asher looked down on my career. He came from money; a single pair of his sneakers could cost tens of thousands. Even though my job was well-paying with great benefits by most people’s standards, to him, it was still a "pathetic job" where a month's salary couldn't even buy one of his shoes. “You’d be better off just pleasing me than going to that job.”