Chapter Four – Building Our Empire (Starting with One Coin)
The next morning felt like walking through soft ashes. The argument had burned out, but its warmth still lingered in the corners of our apartment.
He made coffee without saying much. I watched the steam rise, tracing invisible shapes in the air — maybe smoke signals of peace, or maybe just caffeine trying to say sorry before he did.
We didn’t talk about the night before, not yet. But the silence wasn’t cold. It was the kind of quiet that knows it has something important to say, just not the right words yet.
I washed the dishes slowly, trying to listen to my thoughts. There’s a moment after every fight where love quietly walks back into the room, brushing dust off its clothes, pretending nothing happened. That’s where we were — rebuilding the soft parts after the hard truth.
He finally spoke, voice gentler than usual.
“I was thinking... maybe we should start saving together. Even just a little.”
I almost dropped the cup. Together. That word carried more hope than money ever could.
I smiled, trying not to sound too eager. “What do you mean by a little?”
He grinned — that sheepish kind of grin that means I’m making this up as I go.
“Like, I don’t know... maybe fifty dollars a week?”
It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was a first coin in the foundation of something new — not just savings, but shared responsibility.
So we made a plan, messy but real.
We’d open a joint account.
We’d track our spending, even the small things — his snacks, my online shopping, the little “treats” that quietly add up.
We’d still give to others, but only when it didn’t take away from our own peace.
He called it our empire. I laughed, because empires usually start with armies, not spreadsheets. But maybe ours would be different. Maybe we’d rule not with power, but with awareness.
As the days passed, I noticed small shifts. He’d pause before paying for everyone at dinner, subtly waiting to see if someone else might offer. I, on the other hand, started loosening my grip — not every dollar needed to be justified.
We were learning balance — a concept neither of our upbringings had taught us well.
Some nights, when we sat together doing nothing special, I’d feel a quiet warmth inside me. Not because we were rich (we weren’t), but because we were finally on the same team. I think that’s what financial intimacy really means — not shared accounts, but shared understanding.
Of course, we still had setbacks. He’d sometimes forget and pay for everyone again. I’d sometimes panic over small expenses and bring up the past. But then we’d remind each other — gently — that empires aren’t built in a day.
One evening, after another long talk about money, he said something that stayed with me.
“You know, I used to think love meant giving everything away. But now I think love also means keeping enough to stay strong.”
It hit me — maybe we weren’t fighting about money at all. We were fighting for stability, for safety, for the chance to love without fear.
That night, I placed a single coin in a small glass jar we kept on the shelf — our “empire fund.” I wrote on a sticky note:
“For the days we forget how far we’ve come.”
Every week, we added a few more coins. Sometimes it was spare change; sometimes it was a symbolic gesture after paying bills. Slowly, the jar began to fill — not enough to impress a banker, but enough to remind us of our commitment.
One morning, I caught him looking at it. He smiled. “It’s not much yet.”
I said, “It’s more than we had yesterday.”
And that’s how love feels lately — not dramatic, not perfect, but quietly accumulating. Like interest on something priceless.
We still pray — to Buddha, to patience, to the courage to be wiser than yesterday.
And maybe that’s how empires are really built — one mindful act, one shared decision, one coin at a time.
TheSoftWarriorDiaries<3
