I Funded Her Dream, He Got the Feast 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.