I Just Returned to my hometown, and a Male Classmate I Havenât Seen in Years Confessed to MeâWith His Wife Right Behind Him ### The moment I stepped off the plane, a college classmate I barely knew threw her arms around me. âDorothy! Iâve missed you so much!â she exclaimed dramatically. Before I could even process what was happening, another woman stormed over and slapped me. Hard. Several times. âYou home-wrecking tramp!â she snarled, her voice dripping with venom. Then, she turned to the man standing nearby and demanded, âBrandon, this is the âovertimeâ you were talking about?â I was lying on the ground, stunned. My cheek throbbed, but something even stranger happenedâflashes of text appeared in front of my eyes, like a scene out of a glitchy video game: âWow, those slaps were iconic! Queen energy!â âThe âperfect exâ is giving major manipulative vibes!â âUh-oh, the second female lead is about to wake up!â Thatâs when it hit me. I wasnât me. I was the tragic second female lead in a romance novel. Apparently, I was the so-called âfirst loveâ of the male lead, the one everyone loved to hate. Well, no thanks. I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed 911, my voice trembling with faux panic. âOfficer, please help me! Iâm being assaulted!â The male and female leads froze, staring at me in disbelief. The woman gawked. âWait, what? This is just⊠a relationship dispute.â The man stammered, âHow did this escalate to⊠a criminal case?â
When the police arrived, they took one look at the bright red handprint on my face and immediately escorted both Brandon and Lydia to the station. After gathering all the details, the officers concluded that my injuries didnât meet the threshold for serious harm. Their verdict? Either Lydia paid me compensation privately, or sheâd face five days in detention. Brandon turned to me with a pained expression. âDorothy, are you okay? Does it hurt?â As he reached out to touch my face, I slapped his hand away, irritated. Lydia, his wife, was livid. âBut sheâs a homewrecker! Am I not allowed to slap the woman trying to steal my husband?â And then, like clockwork, those strange floating words appeared again: âThis âperfect exâ really isnât easy to deal with.â âSheâs the one ruining someoneâs marriage, and now she has the audacity to call the cops?â âGirl, just divorce him and let this trashy couple be together!â I frowned and said coldly, âI donât want her money. Go ahead and detain her.â Without waiting for their reaction, I walked out of the station, leaving the chaos behind. I thought that would be the last time Iâd ever have to deal with those two. But that same evening, I was added to a group chat. To my annoyance, Brandon was in itâalong with a few of his old college buddies. Brandon immediately started apologizing profusely, flooding the chat with messages about how much he cared for me. His friends chimed in like a chorus, egging me on to forgive him. âCome on, Dorothy, give Brandon a break! Everyone knows how much he loves you.â âYeah, heâs been into you since collegeâheâs waited for you all these years!â âNow that youâre back, maybe itâs time to give him a chance?â Their words made me suspicious. I opened my chat history with Brandon, trying to make sense of it all. Back in college, I was part of the student council, so I had everyoneâs contact infoâbut I barely remembered talking to him. When I scrolled through our message history, memories came rushing back. Brandon was that guy. The one who had arranged a giant heart made of rose petals outside my dorm building. At the time, Iâd been completely caught off guard. My only thought was to get back to my room before anyone noticed, but his friends had blocked my way and dragged me into the middle of the petal heart. Surrounded by a crowd of classmates chanting, âSay yes! Say yes!â Brandon had confessed his feelings to me in front of everyone. I felt so cornered. Looking at this guy I barely knew, I politely declined. âIâm sorry, itâs not you. Itâs meâIâm just not ready for a relationship right now.â After that, I muted his messages and never thought about him again. Now, scrolling through our years of one-sided chats, I realized he never stopped texting me. And the message he sent most often? âIâll wait for you. When youâre ready to date, weâll be together.â Back in college, I had turned Brandon down politely because of all the classmates watching. I never imagined heâd interpret that as me asking him to wait for me. For a moment, I genuinely couldnât comprehend how some menâs minds work. If subtlety didnât get through to him, it was time to be blunt. I typed a message into the group chat: âI donât like Brandon. Please stop bothering me about him.â Then, without waiting for a response, I left the group. But soon, I realized it wasnât about how I phrased my rejectionâwhether polite or direct. Some people will always twist your words into the version they want to hear. The next day, I went to my fatherâs company. The reason I had returned to the country was because of my fatherâs declining health. As his only child, I needed to step in and take over the family business. I hadnât expected to run into Brandon outside the office as he was leaving for the day. The moment I spotted him, I quickened my pace, silently praying he wouldnât notice me. Of course, things didnât go my way. âDorothy!â he called out, his voice overly cheerful. âDo you work here too?â I let out a small sigh of reliefâat least he didnât seem to know this was my fatherâs company. âNo,â I replied quickly, âIâm just passing by.â He gave me a long look, then smiled. âIâm the director here.â I had no idea why he thought Iâd care, but I nodded politely, hoping to end the conversation. No one had asked, but sure, Brandon, go ahead and brag. Sensing the awkwardness, he quickly turned to the little boy holding his hand. âXavier, say hello to Miss Dorothy.â Then, as if this situation couldnât get any worse, he added, âThis is the Dorothy I told you about. Isnât she beautiful?â Thatâs when it hit meâhe had a kid. I turned to leave, unwilling to be part of this absurd scene any longer. But as I walked away, the boy suddenly wrapped himself around my leg and declared, âMiss Dorothy is beautiful! Way prettier than Mommy!â I froze, glaring at Brandon. It was obvious heâd taught his son to say that. And then, those strange floating words appeared again: âLike father, like son! This family really is something else.â âLaugh now, kid. Just wait till your mom kicks you and your dad outâyouâll be crying then.â âCanât wait to see both father and son groveling when the tables turn.â I peeled the boy off me and looked Brandon straight in the eye. âYou have a family now. Stop trying to involve me in your life.â I continued firmly, âIâve already made it clear that I donât like you. If you keep bothering me, I wonât hesitate to call the police.â Brandon seemed stunned by my words. He didnât say anything, just took his son and walked away. Since Brandon worked at my fatherâs company, I knew Iâd run into him again eventually. I had prepared myself for that. But over the next few days, Brandon didnât appear. Instead, his wife, Lydia, came looking for me. 3 I was sitting in a coffee shop near the office, working on my laptop, when Lydia suddenly appeared and plopped down across from me. Her eyes were red and puffy, and before I could react, she started crying. Loudly. âDorothy, why canât you just leave my family alone?â she sobbed, her voice trembling. Her dramatic outburst immediately drew the attention of the people around us. She didnât seem to care about the stares, though. Instead, she leaned closer, tears streaming down her face, and continued: âYou knew my husband works here, yet you still had to come to the same company?â âAnd itâs not enough that youâre stealing my husbandânow even my son comes home saying youâre prettier than me! He calls me an ugly mom and says he wants you to be his new mom instead!â I stared at her, completely baffled. It was so absurd I didnât even know where to start. Still, trying to keep my cool, I decided to be sympatheticâwoman to woman. âMaybe your sonâs behavior says more about Brandon than it does about you,â I said calmly. âHonestly, you should think about divorcing him. Brandon isnât worth it, and staying with someone like him will only set a bad example for your son. If youâre not careful, heâll grow up to be just like his dad.â The second I mentioned the word divorce, Lydiaâs expression changed completely. Her tears stopped, and she sat up straight, glaring at me with suspicion. âYou want me to divorce him, donât you? So you can take my place? Youâre unbelievable!â she spat, her voice sharp and accusatory. She shot up from her chair, her anger boiling over. âLet me tell you something, you homewreckerâpeople like you never get a happy ending. You think just because he calls you his âfirst loveâ that heâll still care about you once he marries you? Think again.â I couldnât help but laugh, though it was more out of frustration than amusement. âIâm sorry, but I wouldnât touch Brandon with a ten-foot pole.â âBesides,â I added, âIâve only just returned to the country. I have nothing to do with him.â Lydia let out a bitter laugh. âOh, really? Then why did you even come back? You were doing just fine abroad, werenât you? What, you couldnât resist the urge to chase after Brandon?â At this point, I was starting to lose my patience. âLook,â I said, trying to stay calm, âI didnât come back because of him. I didnât even tell him I was back. Maybe he saw it because I posted something on social mediaâŠâ I trailed off as I realized how that sounded. It was like I was accidentally defending myself to herâfalling right into her trap. I frowned and shook my head. âWhether I stay abroad or come back is my business. It has nothing to do with him.â But Lydia didnât care about my explanation. To her, everything I said was just proof that I was provoking her. Without warning, she grabbed the glass of water in front of her and tossed it in my face. Water dripped from my hair and onto my clothes as Lydia leaned in one last time, her voice full of venom. âJust you wait. Youâll get whatâs coming to you!â She stormed off, leaving me sitting there, wiping my face with a napkin. As I dabbed at the water, those strange text bubbles appeared again: âYes! The female lead is finally fighting back! Rip that homewrecker apart!â âBut seriously, why hasnât she divorced the male lead yet? She knows heâs hung up on his ex!â âOh, you poor innocent soul. If she divorces him now, sheâs just letting these two trash bags win.â âExactly. She needs to gather evidence, take the house, the car, and all his money. Make him regret everything!â I sighed, wondering how Iâd managed to get tangled up in this mess. 4 When my close girlfriends found out I was back in the country, they insisted on throwing me a welcome-back party. After spending extra time getting ready, I arrived at the venue only to discover that Brandon and his group of buddies were also there. The moment Brandon saw me, he hurried over like an eager puppy. He poured me a drink, handed me napkins, and hovered far too close for comfort. I instinctively stepped away and made a point of sitting at the farthest corner of the table, putting as much distance between us as possible. Sensing my discomfort, one of my friends leaned over and explained with a grin, âOh, Dorothy, you havenât heard, have you?â âYue is dating one of Brandonâs friends now!â It turned out one of my girlfriends was seeing someone from Brandonâs circle of friends. Since I hadnât seen my friends in years, I didnât want to ruin the mood, so I kept quiet and stayed polite. But Brandonâs buddies werenât content to sit aroundâthey suggested playing drinking games to âliven things up.â I lost several rounds in a row and ended up downing more drinks than I could handle. Just as I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, Brandon swooped in, grabbed my glass, and drank it for me. His friends erupted into cheers, teasing him about being such a âgentlemanâ and how he was clearly âprotecting Dorothy like the treasure she is.â Meanwhile, I was holding back the urge to vomitâboth from the alcohol and the sheer disgust I felt. Seizing the opportunity, Brandon slid into the seat next to me and even had the audacity to wrap his arm around my shoulders. âDorothy,â he said softly, leaning closer, âyou know how long Iâve loved you. Iâve been waiting for you all these years.â I immediately tried to push him away, glaring at him. âWhat do you mean, youâve been waiting for me? Youâre married! Do you hear yourself?â âAnd stop this self-delusional nonsense! Stop acting like youâve sacrificed everything for meâitâs disgusting.â Before I could finish, I was shoved to the ground. Lydia had shown up, her phone camera flashing as she furiously filmed the scene. âI knew it! You just LOVE being a homewrecker, donât you?â she shouted, her voice trembling with rage. Then she turned on Brandon, her fury spilling over. âAnd you, Brandonâwhatâs wrong with you? Is the food I cook at home not good enough? Does everything outside suddenly look better to you? Youâre unbelievable!â Brandon instinctively reached out to help me up but quickly changed course when he saw Lydiaâs escalating anger. He rushed over to calm her down, but it was too late. Lydiaâs entire body was shaking. âIâm done, Brandon. Iâm divorcing you!â she screamed. âAnd donât think youâre getting off easy. You call yourself a âdirectorâ? Fine, but after the divorce, I want $10,000 a month in child support!â âOh, and your car? Your house? Theyâre mine now too!â As soon as she finished her tirade, the strange floating words appeared again, filling the air like a live commentary: âYES! Finally! The female lead is divorcing him!â âLook at the trashy male leadâs shocked faceâcue the âchasing-the-wifeâ drama!â âHa! So much for the âperfect ex.â Sheâs about to get dumped, too!â I stood up, fists clenched, watching this chaotic scene unfold in front of me.
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