No matter what people say, happiness can’t exist without money!
When illusions clash with reality
Since childhood, I was taught that money isn’t everything.
“The most important thing is having good people around you,” my parents would say.
“Love is what matters, not wealth.”
I believed them.
Then I grew up.
And realized how wrong they were.
I married for love, but it wasn’t enough
I met Emma when I was still a university student.
We were so in love that we couldn’t bear being apart.
When we got married, we had no home, no savings, no guarantees for the future.
But none of that mattered to us.
We were happy.
Our children came along. Our home was filled with their laughter, toys, and joy.
Everything seemed so bright, so right.
Friends surrounded us, and on holidays, we hosted lively gatherings that felt timeless.
But life doesn’t favor those who live in fairy tales.
When there’s no money at home, happiness vanishes
The first blow was sudden.
I was laid off.
I found myself without a job, without stability, without certainty.
Emma kept working, but her salary barely covered anything.
Initially, we just started cutting back.
Then we began avoiding guests – because we had nothing to offer them.
Slowly, our smiles faded.
I could no longer afford even the simplest of things
My wife always loved beautiful things, quality makeup, and nice perfumes.
Now she was searching thrift shops, hunting for sales, buying the cheapest available.
She learned to ignore quality – only focusing on price.
And as I looked at her, I saw the spark in her eyes diminishing.
She hated the cheap soap in the bathroom, detested the cheap powder, loathed everything that reminded her of our poverty.
I was losing her – bit by bit, each day
She became irritable.
She grew angry with me.
She looked at me with reproach – I knew she no longer saw someone who could make things better.
I searched for work.
But all I could find was security work on a construction site for minimum wage.
I took it, because I had no choice.
But it wasn’t enough.
Emma went silent more often. Turned away more frequently.
And I didn’t know what to say.
I could only shrug:
“What can I do?”
“We’re not the only ones,” I’d say.
“Many are in the same boat,” I tried to reassure her.
But deep down, I knew – it was a weakness.
She knew – it was weakness.
And the love that once seemed unbreakable was melting away like snow.
My parents were wrong. Money is everything.
I’m angry.
At myself.
At Emma.
At my parents, who never taught me how to chase after money, never instilled in me the drive to earn.
They told me money wasn’t the main thing.
But it was the lack of it that tore my family apart.
Not love.
Not betrayal.
Just poverty.
And now I understand: there’s no happiness without money.
