I Snapped at Her Over a Ten-Pound Delivery Charge and I See the Fear in Her Eyes

Dear Delyara, I did something terrible this evening before my shift started. She mentioned that she had ordered a small art book she needed for her own inspiration, and that the delivery charge was ten pounds. Something inside my brain just snapped. I raised my voice—loudly, aggressively—and started lecturing her about financial discipline, our variable mortgage rates, and how we can’t afford to waste money while we’re trying to fund Maison SEIFI. The look on her face completely broke my heart. She didn't shout back; she just shrunk back into her chair, her eyes wide and wet, looking at me like I was a complete stranger. She doesn't know that our personal account is down to single digits. She doesn't know I used the business card for groceries. She just thinks her husband has turned into a bitter, angry miser. The guilt is sitting on my chest like an iron weight right now, and I can't even call her to apologize because my pride is too twisted to admit the truth.