Because I hoped that with those roses, I could finally hold the woman I loved.
Her dream was to become a powerful woman in the business world—and I supported her without question.
Every night, she came home late, exhausted, collapsing onto the sofa the moment she stepped inside. I took off her shoes, washed her feet, massaged her tired legs and whispered encouragement into her ear.
I wanted her to succeed. And because of my constant care, she was able to throw herself into her work without distractions.
But I’m human too. I get tired. I get worn down. Still, no matter how drained I felt, I never said a word.
Because to love someone… is to give them everything, without expecting anything in return.
Eventually, she did succeed. She got busier than ever.
“Dinner with a client tonight.”
“There’s a meeting this evening.”
“I’m not coming home—don’t wait up.”
Each message came in a quick, clipped tone before she hung up.
Even though I felt disappointed, I never complained. I stayed behind the scenes, silently supporting her.
My friends said I was being pathetic. I used to brush it off. Love is love—does it really matter who’s giving more?
But now, I understand.