Antonio and I had been inseparable during all four years of college. She was sweet, patient, and endlessly loyal—the kind of woman who could make the darkest day feel like spring.

But after graduation, life took us down very different roads.

I landed a high-paying job at a multinational in Mexico City almost immediately, while Antonio struggled for months before finding work as a receptionist at a small clinic.

And that’s when my arrogance poisoned everything.

I told myself I deserved more. More success. More status. More… everything.

So I left her—coldly, selfishly—for the CEO’s daughter, believing that marrying into wealth would catapult me to the top.

Antonio cried until she was sick. She begged me to reconsider. I didn’t even flinch. In my mind, she simply wasn’t good enough.

Five years later, my reality looked nothing like the glamorous future I’d imagined.

I was still at the same company, but only as an assistant sales manager—never promoted, always overshadowed. My wife, the CEO’s daughter, mocked my “mediocre” salary and treated me like an accessory she could replace at any moment. Her father… barely acknowledged my existence.

I lived in quiet fear of losing everything—not realizing I already had.

Then one afternoon, a call from a college friend changed everything.

“Did you hear?” he said. “Antonio’s getting married.”

Something twisted in my chest. “To who?”

“A construction worker,” my friend chuckled. “No money, no big future. Guess she still doesn’t know how to pick ’em.”

I smirked, picturing a rough-faced man in an ill-fitting suit. That’s when the cruel thought struck me: I should go. Not to congratulate her—but to gloat. To prove she’d lost the best thing she ever had.

On the wedding day, I polished my best designer shoes, put on my most expensive watch, and arrived in my sleek luxury car. I stepped into the reception hall, basking in the curious glances.

And then I saw him.

The groom.

He stood tall in a simple beige suit—no designer labels, no pretension. But his face… it froze me where I stood.

Emilio.

My old college roommate. The quiet one. The man who had lost his leg in a tragic accident during senior year, who never complained, who helped anyone without expecting anything in return.

He didn’t have wealth or status, but he had something else—an unshakable dignity that made him seem larger than life.

And there he was, holding Antonio’s hand, his eyes shining with the kind of love I’d never been capable of giving her.

I overheard two older guests whispering:

“Emilio’s a good man. Works hard every day, even with one leg. Sends money to his family, built their house brick by brick. Everyone in town respects him.”

It felt like a blade sliding between my ribs.

The ceremony began. Antonio walked toward him, her smile serene, her gaze locked on his. No expensive gown could have made her more radiant.

I remembered how she used to hide her hand from mine in public, afraid her simple clothes would embarrass me. Now she stood proudly beside a man with far less in material wealth—but far more in honor.

And it hit me.

I had spent years chasing money, status, and approval… while she had found something priceless.

That night, when I returned home, I tossed my designer bag aside and sank to the floor.

And I cried.

Not out of jealousy, but out of a crushing realization—
I had traded away the only woman who had ever truly loved me… for nothing.

Money could be earned again. Status could be rebuilt. But the kind of love she and Emilio shared? That was a once-in-a-lifetime treasure.

And I… had thrown it away.