I Just Returned to my hometown, and a Male Classmate I Haven’t Seen in Years Confessed to Me—With His Wife Right Behind Him

I Just Returned to my hometown, and a Male Classmate I Haven’t Seen in Years Confessed to Me—With His Wife Right Behind Him ### The moment I stepped off the plane, a college classmate I barely knew threw her arms around me. “Dorothy! I’ve missed you so much!” she exclaimed dramatically. Before I could even process what was happening, another woman stormed over and slapped me. Hard. Several times. “You home-wrecking tramp!” she snarled, her voice dripping with venom. Then, she turned to the man standing nearby and demanded, “Brandon, this is the ‘overtime’ you were talking about?” I was lying on the ground, stunned. My cheek throbbed, but something even stranger happened—flashes of text appeared in front of my eyes, like a scene out of a glitchy video game: “Wow, those slaps were iconic! Queen energy!” “The ‘perfect ex’ is giving major manipulative vibes!” “Uh-oh, the second female lead is about to wake up!” That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t me. I was the tragic second female lead in a romance novel. Apparently, I was the so-called “first love” 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. “Officer, please help me! I’m being assaulted!” The male and female leads froze, staring at me in disbelief. The woman gawked. “Wait, what? This is just… a relationship dispute.” The man stammered, “How did this escalate to… a criminal case?”

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 didn’t meet the threshold for serious harm. Their verdict? Either Lydia paid me compensation privately, or she’d face five days in detention. Brandon turned to me with a pained expression. “Dorothy, are you okay? Does it hurt?” As he reached out to touch my face, I slapped his hand away, irritated. Lydia, his wife, was livid. “But she’s a homewrecker! Am I not allowed to slap the woman trying to steal my husband?” And then, like clockwork, those strange floating words appeared again: “This ‘perfect ex’ really isn’t easy to deal with.” “She’s the one ruining someone’s marriage, and now she has the audacity to call the cops?” “Girl, just divorce him and let this trashy couple be together!” I frowned and said coldly, “I don’t want her money. Go ahead and detain her.” Without waiting for their reaction, I walked out of the station, leaving the chaos behind. I thought that would be the last time I’d ever have to deal with those two. But that same evening, I was added to a group chat. To my annoyance, Brandon was in it—along 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. “Come on, Dorothy, give Brandon a break! Everyone knows how much he loves you.” “Yeah, he’s been into you since college—he’s waited for you all these years!” “Now that you’re back, maybe it’s time to give him a chance?” 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 everyone’s contact info—but 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, I’d 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, “Say yes! Say yes!” 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. “I’m sorry, it’s not you. It’s me—I’m just not ready for a relationship right now.” 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? “I’ll wait for you. When you’re ready to date, we’ll be together.” Back in college, I had turned Brandon down politely because of all the classmates watching. I never imagined he’d interpret that as me asking him to wait for me. For a moment, I genuinely couldn’t comprehend how some men’s minds work. If subtlety didn’t get through to him, it was time to be blunt. I typed a message into the group chat: “I don’t like Brandon. Please stop bothering me about him.” Then, without waiting for a response, I left the group. But soon, I realized it wasn’t about how I phrased my rejection—whether polite or direct. Some people will always twist your words into the version they want to hear. The next day, I went to my father’s company. The reason I had returned to the country was because of my father’s declining health. As his only child, I needed to step in and take over the family business. I hadn’t 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 wouldn’t notice me. Of course, things didn’t go my way. “Dorothy!” he called out, his voice overly cheerful. “Do you work here too?” I let out a small sigh of relief—at least he didn’t seem to know this was my father’s company. “No,” I replied quickly, “I’m just passing by.” He gave me a long look, then smiled. “I’m the director here.” I had no idea why he thought I’d 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. “Xavier, say hello to Miss Dorothy.” Then, as if this situation couldn’t get any worse, he added, “This is the Dorothy I told you about. Isn’t she beautiful?” That’s when it hit me—he 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, “Miss Dorothy is beautiful! Way prettier than Mommy!” I froze, glaring at Brandon. It was obvious he’d taught his son to say that. And then, those strange floating words appeared again: “Like father, like son! This family really is something else.” “Laugh now, kid. Just wait till your mom kicks you and your dad out—you’ll be crying then.” “Can’t wait to see both father and son groveling when the tables turn.” I peeled the boy off me and looked Brandon straight in the eye. “You have a family now. Stop trying to involve me in your life.” I continued firmly, “I’ve already made it clear that I don’t like you. If you keep bothering me, I won’t hesitate to call the police.” Brandon seemed stunned by my words. He didn’t say anything, just took his son and walked away. Since Brandon worked at my father’s company, I knew I’d run into him again eventually. I had prepared myself for that. But over the next few days, Brandon didn’t 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. “Dorothy, why can’t you just leave my family alone?” she sobbed, her voice trembling. Her dramatic outburst immediately drew the attention of the people around us. She didn’t seem to care about the stares, though. Instead, she leaned closer, tears streaming down her face, and continued: “You knew my husband works here, yet you still had to come to the same company?” “And it’s not enough that you’re stealing my husband—now even my son comes home saying you’re prettier than me! He calls me an ugly mom and says he wants you to be his new mom instead!” I stared at her, completely baffled. It was so absurd I didn’t even know where to start. Still, trying to keep my cool, I decided to be sympathetic—woman to woman. “Maybe your son’s behavior says more about Brandon than it does about you,” I said calmly. “Honestly, you should think about divorcing him. Brandon isn’t worth it, and staying with someone like him will only set a bad example for your son. If you’re not careful, he’ll grow up to be just like his dad.” The second I mentioned the word divorce, Lydia’s expression changed completely. Her tears stopped, and she sat up straight, glaring at me with suspicion. “You want me to divorce him, don’t you? So you can take my place? You’re unbelievable!” she spat, her voice sharp and accusatory. She shot up from her chair, her anger boiling over. “Let me tell you something, you homewrecker—people like you never get a happy ending. You think just because he calls you his ‘first love’ that he’ll still care about you once he marries you? Think again.” I couldn’t help but laugh, though it was more out of frustration than amusement. “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t touch Brandon with a ten-foot pole.” “Besides,” I added, “I’ve only just returned to the country. I have nothing to do with him.” Lydia let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, really? Then why did you even come back? You were doing just fine abroad, weren’t you? What, you couldn’t resist the urge to chase after Brandon?” At this point, I was starting to lose my patience. “Look,” I said, trying to stay calm, “I didn’t come back because of him. I didn’t even tell him I was back. Maybe he saw it because I posted something on social media…” I trailed off as I realized how that sounded. It was like I was accidentally defending myself to her—falling right into her trap. I frowned and shook my head. “Whether I stay abroad or come back is my business. It has nothing to do with him.” But Lydia didn’t 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. “Just you wait. You’ll get what’s coming to you!” 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: “Yes! The female lead is finally fighting back! Rip that homewrecker apart!” “But seriously, why hasn’t she divorced the male lead yet? She knows he’s hung up on his ex!” “Oh, you poor innocent soul. If she divorces him now, she’s just letting these two trash bags win.” “Exactly. She needs to gather evidence, take the house, the car, and all his money. Make him regret everything!” I sighed, wondering how I’d 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, “Oh, Dorothy, you haven’t heard, have you?” “Yue is dating one of Brandon’s friends now!” It turned out one of my girlfriends was seeing someone from Brandon’s circle of friends. Since I hadn’t seen my friends in years, I didn’t want to ruin the mood, so I kept quiet and stayed polite. But Brandon’s buddies weren’t content to sit around—they suggested playing drinking games to “liven things up.” 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 “gentleman” and how he was clearly “protecting Dorothy like the treasure she is.” Meanwhile, I was holding back the urge to vomit—both 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. “Dorothy,” he said softly, leaning closer, “you know how long I’ve loved you. I’ve been waiting for you all these years.” I immediately tried to push him away, glaring at him. “What do you mean, you’ve been waiting for me? You’re married! Do you hear yourself?” “And stop this self-delusional nonsense! Stop acting like you’ve sacrificed everything for me—it’s disgusting.” Before I could finish, I was shoved to the ground. Lydia had shown up, her phone camera flashing as she furiously filmed the scene. “I knew it! You just LOVE being a homewrecker, don’t you?” she shouted, her voice trembling with rage. Then she turned on Brandon, her fury spilling over. “And you, Brandon—what’s wrong with you? Is the food I cook at home not good enough? Does everything outside suddenly look better to you? You’re unbelievable!” Brandon instinctively reached out to help me up but quickly changed course when he saw Lydia’s escalating anger. He rushed over to calm her down, but it was too late. Lydia’s entire body was shaking. “I’m done, Brandon. I’m divorcing you!” she screamed. “And don’t think you’re getting off easy. You call yourself a ‘director’? Fine, but after the divorce, I want $10,000 a month in child support!” “Oh, and your car? Your house? They’re mine now too!” As soon as she finished her tirade, the strange floating words appeared again, filling the air like a live commentary: “YES! Finally! The female lead is divorcing him!” “Look at the trashy male lead’s shocked face—cue the ‘chasing-the-wife’ drama!” “Ha! So much for the ‘perfect ex.’ She’s about to get dumped, too!” I stood up, fists clenched, watching this chaotic scene unfold in front of me.

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