The silver Mercedes-Benz E200 was Jolene’s social identity. For five years, that car announced their arrival at every wedding and condo clubhouse. To her, the three-pointed star wasn’t transportation; it was the “face” she presented to her social circle. When Meng traded it for a white Toyota Corolla Altis to eliminate the $2,800 monthly installments, the marriage hit a wall.
“Meng, you siao ah?” Jolene stared at the Toyota keys on the marble kitchen counter. “Our neighbors all driving continental. You want me to hop out of a Japanese car at the lobby? So paiseh, you know. People will think we ‘drop grade’ or you got retrenched.”
Meng, an IT manager tired of the “prestige tax” and constant maintenance, didn’t flinch. “It’s just a car, Jolene. A to B can already. Why pay so much for ‘face’ when the road tax and insurance are killing our cash flow? We can actually save now.”
“Face is everything in Singapore,” she snapped.
“Without it, you’re just another uncle on the road. I cannot believe you are so low-ambition.”
The cold war lasted three weeks. Jolene refused to step into the Toyota, booking private hires for every outing to avoid being seen in a “normal” car. She stopped joining him for their usual weekend brunch, claiming she was “busy,” but Meng knew the truth: she was embarrassed by the downgrade.
One Monday evening, Meng returned to an empty master bedroom. The walk-in wardrobe was half-bare. The branded bags—carefully curated to match the Mercedes lifestyle—were gone. The vanity table, usually cluttered with expensive serums and imported perfumes, was wiped clean.
A note sat on the bed: “I didn’t marry a Toyota man, Meng. You lost your drive. I’m staying with my sister until you find yours again. Don’t call me until the ‘star’ is back in the driveway.”
Meng sat on the edge of the bed and opened his banking app. For the first time in years, his monthly balance wasn’t hovering near the red; it was deep in the green. He looked out the window at the white Altis. It was practical, reliable, and—most importantly—fully paid for.
He didn’t call her. He didn’t even text. He just went to the kitchen, made a Milo, and enjoyed the absolute silence of a house without a prestige debt. Sometimes, losing “face” is the only way to finally find your peace. He realized he didn’t miss the car, and he certainly didn’t miss the person who only loved the car.