Martin was certain that everyone would admire him that night.The day before, he had been praised at work for submitting a report on time, and ever since, he seemed as if he had grown half a meter taller. He walked around the house like the king of the world,
spoke in a commanding tone, and got annoyed if dinner was even a few minutes late.— Sophie, the shirts need to be ironed more carefully. I have a different status now — he advised, as if giving a lecture to small children.
I smiled inwardly. There’s no point in arguing with a man drunk on his own importance. It’s better to let him play the role… until it’s your turn.And I had my reason.A month earlier, it had been my birthday. Martin had forgotten. Instead of a gift or at least a wish, he went with his mother, Clara, to pick out curtains.
— Since you didn’t throw a big party — he shrugged. — Why should I wish you happy birthday?I said nothing then. But the conclusion was clear.We celebrated his forty-third birthday at home, with family, friends, and colleagues. Martin sat at the head of the table, and Clara commented on every bite:
— The meat is a bit tough — she remarked. — Martin is stressed now; he’s building a serious reputation.Martin tapped his glass.— Sophie, bring another sauce. And where are the olives?I smiled. Everything was going according to plan.
And when the moment for the gifts arrived, his glow reached its peak. Envelopes, boxes, well wishes… and finally — my gift. A large, elegant box with a ribbon.— It must be the watch I wanted — he said, satisfied. — Give it here.
— Say a few words to the guests first — I calmly requested. — After all, today you’re the center of attention.He straightened his jacket, stood tall, and began to speak:— My friends, you know the path I’ve traveled. Everything I have today is the result of my work and discipline…
— and the list went on, detailing all of Martin’s achievements and glory.The guests looked at each other, as if whispering, “Where will he stop?”— Nice speech — I said with a calm smile. — Open it.He lifted the lid.
Inside: a brand-new professional drill and the receipt from the hardware store.— What is this?! — he paled.— A gift, my love — I answered. — Didn’t you say shelves needed to be installed at your mother’s house? I took care of the family.
Silence fell over the table.— You’re humiliating me! — he burst out.— No — I said calmly. — I’m just restoring respect where it was lost. A month ago, you showed that my feelings didn’t matter. Today I showed that won’t happen again.
And, by the way, the apartment is mine. When the guests leave, you can gather your things… and don’t forget the drill. It’s under warranty.No one supported him. His inflated sense of importance popped like a balloon.
A few hours later, the quiet and lightness restored peace to the house.And I tell every woman: never get used to disrespect. Sometimes the most valuable gift you can give a man isn’t something you buy — it’s the boundary you decide to set.
