I liked being outside.
I liked solving problems with my hands.
I liked seeing something broken in the morning and standing in front of something functional by the afternoon.
Claire’s family didn’t understand that.
To them, success meant expensive cars, polished shoes, private clubs, and impressive job titles.
Her father, Martin Collins, had built his identity around being important.
He wore tailored suits even when there was no reason to.
He loved reminding people who he knew.
He loved being introduced as a senior executive.
And after Claire and I married, he decided I needed his guidance.
“You’ll learn,” he told me one evening during dinner.
“Learn what?”
“How to move up.”
I laughed because I thought he was joking.
He wasn’t.
“You’ve got a good wife,” he continued. “Claire deserves stability.”
I looked across the table at Claire.
She lowered her eyes.
“Martin,” she said quietly, “can we not do this tonight?”
