Every Friday, Amanda and her boyfriend Andrew came into the restaurant. Amanda was bright, kind, and fluent in several languages. She’d order dishes in their native tongues, always with perfect pronunciation. Andrew, however, constantly mocked her—calling her pretentious and “embarrassing” her in front of others.

One night, Andrew brought his parents. Amanda, as usual, ordered beautifully, only to be humiliated by Andrew again. This time, I’d had enough.

I spoke to him in Mandarin, asking him not to be so cruel. Amanda responded fluently, thanking me. Andrew was stunned—and furious.

Amanda stood up and said, “Just because you don’t understand something doesn’t mean it’s meaningless. I love languages. I shouldn’t have to shrink for you.”

Then she left him.

The next week, Amanda returned—alone, glowing. She’d dumped Andrew and was finally pursuing her dream: becoming a translator for a nonprofit helping refugees.

I smiled as she said goodbye in five languages.