Money Cant Buy Happiness

The alarm trilled with its high-pitched tone, and Nathanial slammed his hand down to stop it. Another early morning, another day filled with meetings, numbers, and briefcases. He moved through the motions—quick coffee, a rushed kiss on Victoria's cheek as she wrestled the kids into their shoes. He barely noticed their laughter, their questions. He was already thinking about the promotion.

Nathanial Brooks was an investment bank manager, a man who had clawed his way to the top. He had it all—a good wife, two beautiful children, a promising career. His hard work, long hours, and endless travel were finally paying off. Today was the day. The promotion he had dreamed of for years was his.

But when he arrived home that evening, the house was oddly still. No laughter. No sound. He switched on the light, noticing immediately that the coats were gone. His children's switch in the living room had disappeared, the toy box that used to be in the corner of the room was also gone.

"Victoria?" His voice echoed in the silence.

There was no answer. Just the suffocating quiet. He frowned, stepping into the kitchen. A note lay on the table, and a sinking feeling settled in his gut. His hand trembled as he picked it up. The words blurred for a moment, disbelief clouding his vision, but the message was unmistakable—Victoria had left him.

His wife, the woman who had stood by his side through every late night, every missed dinner, was gone. She had taken the kids with her. Her words cut deep—he had worked too much, missed too many milestones, and she had felt like a single parent for far too long.

Nathanial scowled in irritation, that felt unfair, he worked hard to earn the money to give his family the lifestyle they have. The extra curriculars, the holidays, all the school trips. After his irritation had faded he felt guilt settle into the pit of his stomach. Thinking back, when was the last time he went to one of his children's football games or recitals? When was the last time he took his wife out on a date? When was the last time he told his family he loved them? When was the last time they went anywhere as a family? Even on holidays he was constantly on the phone or computer. Truthfully, the only information he knew about his children was what his wife had told him. Shame hit him in waves, and grief. He does love his wife, of course he does. He wanted his children to have everything he never had. He grew up in poverty and it was awful. Barely making it from meal to meal he swore his children wouldn't live the same way. He clutched the note, rereading the words. He remembered the time Victoria had asked him to help with the kids' homework, but he had waved her off, muttering about a client call. The look of disappointment in her eyes, though brief, lingered now in his memory like a shadow that refused to fade. The football games he missed, where his son scored goals he only heard about through second-hand stories. The recitals, where his daughter’s bright smile beamed in front of an audience—but never at him. He thought he could make it up to them once he had this promotion, give them a life they'd only dreamed of. But he realised now this was a lie he told himself, his children only ever wanted him.

His ambitions had blinded him and made him miss what was truly important. He had made his wife feel unloved and overwhelmed. He was a stranger to his own children.

He could still picture his daughter twirling around the living room in her ballet costume, her giggles filling the space as she begged him to watch her routine just one more time. His son used to build intricate LEGO castles on the kitchen table, proudly showing off each one while Nathanial nodded absently, eyes glued to his phone. Victoria used to hum softly as she cooked, her voice blending with the clinking of dishes and the sizzling of dinner, a symphony that made this house a home and he had taken it for granted.

His only friends he hadn't really spoke too since university, except to say happy birthday. The house was full of expensive furniture, a state of the art kitchen, marble floors and a grand fireplace. A luxury car sitting untouched in the driveway, feeling like more of a mockery now than a symbol of success. This house was no longer his home, it felt like a corpse, utterly devoid of life. Even the air felt stale, cold- like a museum. What was once a sanctuary seemed to have turned into a crypt in the space of a few short hours. He took a slow tour of the house, his footsteps echoing on the marble floors. As he got to the bedroom, he saw his daughters toys still scattered on the floor, frozen in time... preserving a life that no longer existed.

Indeed, he'd achieved everything he'd ever wanted and all it had cost him was everything he loved.

Nathanial used to think that the saying 'money can't by happiness' was sentimental drivel said by the impoverished to make themselves feel better. Honestly, have you seen anybody cry on a jet ski? Still as he looked around his empty house he realised, what is the point of a luxury life if there is nobody to share it with? He had built his fortune brick by brick, but in the process, he had destroyed the foundation of his family. The things that mattered most had slipped through his fingers while he chased after something that, in the end, felt worthless.

He remembered the day his son was born, and how he held that tiny bundle of unmade plans. His wife's smile was radiant, she'd gone through over ten hours of agonising labour, sweat had clung to her brow and her breathing was still uneven. He got a healthy dose of respect for women when she nearly broke his hand as she pushed. Still, she had never looked more beautiful to him in that moment. He sat next to her and they looked at their son. He didn't think anything could go wrong. She had put her body through extreme hardship, and she gave him a gift he could never repay her for. When his daughter came a couple of years later he was thrilled, he'd secretly hoped for a girl, he'd heard all about daddys girls and the bond fathers had with their daughters and hoped she'd be just as attached. His wife had smiled at him, her eyes glittering in amusement as if she could read his thoughts.

"She'll be the spitting image of you, I just know it" Victoria said softly and the smile that split on Nathanial's face he thought it would never leave.

What had he done? Was it too late? Could he beg forgiveness and show he was willing to change? Part of him thought not, if Victoria had taken the clothes and the kids she was serious and had given it deep thought. She wasn't an impulsive woman. This wasn't the Christmas Carol either, this was reality. He sent her a message asking if they could talk. and sat down alone at the kitchen table for the first time in years. The emptiness of the room was suffocating. The house—his empire, his fortress of success—felt hollow, like a monument to everything he had failed to protect.

The thought of going through life without the laughter of his children or the warmth of Victoria's smile felt unbearable. He had once believed that providing for them was enough. Now, he understood that money meant nothing without the people it was meant to support.

Staring at the note, he realized something deeper: whether she forgave him or not, he had to change. For his children, for himself. He couldn’t chase after promotions and bank statements anymore—not if it meant living in a house full of ghosts. He looked around the empty kitchen one last time, then stood up. It was time to try, even if it was too late.