“Dante, please! Don’t come near me! You smell so bad!” Sheila shouted, covering her nose with her expensive handkerchief. They were standing in the middle of the market. Dante, wearing an apron covered in fish scales and streaks of fish blood, was holding a small cake.
“Sheila, it’s our anniversary today,” Dante said sadly. “I saved up for this. Let’s at least eat together for a bit.”
“Eat?! Looking like that?” Sheila sneered. “Dante, I’m tired. I’m tired of having a boyfriend who smells like the market! My friends’ boyfriends smell nice and work in offices. You? Are you going to be a fish vendor for the rest of your life?”
“Sheila, this is honest work. One day, my stall will grow…”
“One day? All you have are dreams!” Sheila grabbed the cake and hurled it into a basin full of tilapia. “We’re done. I don’t want this anymore. I’ll find a man who can support me without making me smell like fish!”
Sheila turned her back on Dante. The young man was left behind, stared at by fellow vendors, in tears, picking up the ruined cake among the fish.
Five years passed. Life did not go well for Sheila. The “office worker” boyfriend she replaced Dante with cheated on her and left her buried in debt. Now she was looking for a job as a secretary.
She was accepted for an interview at Blue Ocean Global Exports, the largest seafood export company in Asia. As she entered the building, she was amazed—the floors were marble, the air-conditioning was icy cold, and the entire place smelled of lavender.
“Ms. Sheila?” the receptionist called. “The CEO is ready in the conference room. You’re next for the final interview.”
Sheila adjusted her blouse. “I have to get this. The owner of this company must be incredibly rich.”
She opened the conference room door. At the end of the long table stood a man with his back turned, gazing out the window overlooking Manila Bay. He was wearing an Armani suit.
“Good morning, Sir. I am Sheila, applying for—”
The CEO slowly turned around. Sheila’s eyes widened. The folder slipped from her hands. Her face went pale, as if all the blood had drained from it.
The man standing before her—handsome, clean, pleasant-smelling, with smooth skin—was none other than Dante.
“D-Dante?” Sheila whispered.
Dante smiled—but it wasn’t a smile of love; it was the smile of a businessman. “Ms. Sheila, have a seat,” he said formally.
“Dante! It really is you!” Sheila’s voice suddenly turned sweet. “Wow! You’re so rich now! I’m so proud of you! I always knew you could do it!”
“Really?” Dante asked, raising an eyebrow. “The last thing I remember is you throwing my cake into a basin of fish and telling me I had no future.”
“Dante, we were young back then! I was just emotional!” Sheila said, grasping his hand. “We can bring back what we had. I’m single now. And since you’re the boss… maybe we can be together again?”
Dante gently pulled his hand away. He stood up and stepped closer to Sheila. He smelled her—then himself.
“Do I smell good now, Sheila?”
“Of course! You smell amazing! You smell rich!” Sheila replied, blushing with excitement.
Dante chuckled softly. “Do you know why I smell good now?” He looked her straight in the eyes. “Because the pain you made me feel back then became my motivation. That ‘fishy smell’ you despised—that’s the smell of the money that made me rich. I grew the business. I exported to Japan, Europe, and the U.S.”
Dante returned to his seat. “I accepted your interview to show you that you were wrong. But I will not hire you—and certainly not welcome you back into my life.”
“W-why, Dante?” Sheila asked, crying.
“Because this company is for people who know how to value even the smallest fish. Not for people who only come back when they’re facing a whale.” Dante pressed the intercom. “Security, please escort the applicant out.”
As Sheila was led away, she sobbed in the elevator going down. Only then did she realize that what was truly “smelly” was not Dante’s job back then—but her own contemptuous attitude, which cost her the biggest jackpot of her life.