My husband gave me money to get plastic surgery so I could match his new corporate status. I left for the “clinic” with his list in my purse, but I came back changed in a way he never approved, and his perfect image started cracking in front of everyone.The night my husband gave me $85,000 to buy a new face, my daughter asked if love always came with a correction list.That’s when I finally stopped crying.Daniel and I hadn’t always been like that. When we met, he ate instant noodles from a saucepan and called it “fine dining.” I loved him anyway.I loved his loud laugh and his bad jokes.For years, I helped him build the life he wanted.We had two kids and one mortgage. I supported his MBA, his late nights, and his promotions.Then came the big title.Head of Finance.After that, my husband stopped looking at me like his wife and started looking at me like something that needed fixing.It began with small comments.”That sweater does nothing for you.””Your hair looks… bland.””Your nose, Gabby. You need to learn how to contour it.”You should really try harder around my colleagues.”

I joked through most of it because that was the only way I could survive his words.The night everything cracked, I was standing in front of the hallway mirror, smoothing my black dress.Daniel came up behind me with a glass of Scotch.”You’re not wearing that,” he saidI turned, frowning. “Why not?””Because people notice things now, Gabrielle.”People notice a black dress?”They notice effort,” he said, looking me up and down. “Or the lack of it.”You’re not wearing that.””You liked this dress last year, Daniel.””Last year, I wasn’t the Head of Finance.”I stared at him through the mirror. “So your title changed, and suddenly your wife is embarrassing?”His jaw tightened. “Don’t twist my words.””Then say them clearly.”He took a slow sip. “You don’t look like the women in my circle, hon. You need to step it up.””Don’t twist my words.”At dinner, he made sure everyone knew it.When one executive’s wife asked what I did, Daniel answered before I could.”Gabrielle keeps the house running,” he said. “She’s not really into finance or strategy.”The woman blinked. “Running a house well sounds like strategy, Daniel.”I almost smiled.Daniel’s hand pressed hard against my back. “She’ll have more time to focus on herself soon. Finally.””Running a house well sounds like strategy, Daniel.””It means I’m tired of carrying this family’s image alone.”he next morning, while Matilda ate cereal and Elijah searched for his sneakers, Daniel slid a white sheet across the kitchen island.