It all started when I was forty-eight.
At the time, I worked in a small bookstore.
I loved my job. Books had been my greatest passion since childhood.
I dreamed of one day owning a little bookstore of my own, with cozy tables, flowers, and a special section for children’s books.
But one evening, Robert came home and announced:
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“Starting tomorrow, you’re not going back to the bookstore.”
I was shocked.
“Why?”
“I’ve found you another job. You’ll earn more money.”
It turned out that he had arranged a job for me at one of the city’s largest hotels.
I was expected to clean guest rooms, hallways, and toilets.
“Robert, I don’t want that job.”
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He replied coldly:
“Our family needs money. We can’t live on your dreams.”
I cried for hours.
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But eventually, I agreed.