My boyfriend Charles Lane’s mom, Karen Wilson, called us to come over for dinner. When we got to his place, a five-year-old kid suddenly rushed into his arms, yelling, “Daddy!” A plainly dressed woman with a big smile waved at me and said, “Nancy Stone! It’s been forever—can’t believe you actually managed to snag Charles.” I shot a confused look at Charles, and he shrugged casually. “Quinn Scott got divorced and moved back here. She had nowhere to stay, so I told her she could bring the kid and keep my mom company for a while.” I struggled through that dinner, barely keeping it together. Afterward, I agreed to a blind date my family had been pushing for—and within a week, I was married. ***** At the dinner table, Charles’ family sat together, chatting and laughing like it was the most natural thing in the world. While I huddled quietly in the corner. Karen cradled five-year-old Tyler Collins in her arms, her smile so bright it seemed her face might burst. Out of nowhere, Tyler turned to Charles and shouted, “Daddy, I really like the toy car you got me this time!” “Glad you like it,” Charles replied, warm and indulgent. The way he looked at Tyler—it was like he was gazing at his own kid. Maybe Quinn caught the sour look on my face because she quickly jumped in to hush her son. “Tyler, how many times have I told you? Don’t call Mr. Lane ‘Daddy.’ He’s not married yet.” Her words sounded like a scolding, but her face told a different story—she wasn’t mad. If anything, she looked amused, her whole expression lit up with a smile. Then Quinn speared a piece of fried fish with her fork and popped it into Charles’ mouth. “Charles, try this—see if my cooking’s gotten rusty. I made it special for you since I knew you’d be back.” Her movements were so smooth and casual, you’d think they were the couple here. “Delicious,” Charles said, taking the bite without hesitation, his lips brushing her fork like it was no big deal. “I’ve been craving this for years while you were abroad. Now that you’re back, I’m in for a treat.” A wave of nausea hit me, and my appetite vanished completely. I stared into space when Quinn speared another piece of fried fish with her fork and moved it toward my plate. “Nancy, you’ve got to try my cooking too!” I jerked my plate away and snapped, “No thanks, I don’t like it. I’m a germaphobe.” The smile plastered on Quinn’s face froze for a second before crumbling. Her lips were pursed into a pout, and it looked like tears were about to spill. Charles quickly scooped the fish she’d offered me into his own plate, then shot me a glare. “What’s your deal? We’ve been together for years—since when are you a germaphobe? Are you just trying to start something?” I’d hold it together until then, but his words shattered the dam. All the hurt I’d been bottling up came flooding out, and tears welled up in my eyes. Before I could even get a word out, Quinn jumped in again, her voice trembling with exaggerated woe. “Charles, don’t blame Nancy. It’s my fault—I got too carried away.” Before she even finished speaking, a tiny hand slapped me across the face. “Don’t you dare bully my mom!” I looked up, tears stinging my eyes, to see Quinn’s son Tyler standing there, hands on his hips, his little face puffed up with anger. I was so furious I started shaking. “Where are your manners?” I snapped. My shout startled him, and he burst into tears. Karen swooped in, scooping him up to comfort him, then turned to scold me. “Can’t you just talk things out calmly? Why would you yell at a little kid who doesn’t know better? Kids scare easily—you’re only making trouble for yourself.” Quinn stood up, pointing at me accusingly. “Nancy, no matter what’s going on, you don’t take it out on a child.” Charles hurried to calm her down, ushering her back into her seat, then nudged me. “Come on, apologize to the kid. You’re a grown adult—how can you stoop to arguing with a child?” That was it—I couldn’t hold back the flood of hurt any longer. I dropped my fork and knife, stood up, and stormed toward the door. As I passed the cabinet, a bright toy car caught my eye—the one Tyler had raved about, the one Charles had asked me to buy for his “nephew.”
Before we came, Charles mentioned a little nephew would be there too. I hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was his sister’s kid. But no—it was Quinn’s son all along. Realizing that, I grabbed the toy, yanked the door open and hurled it outside. When I stepped out, Tyler’s cries and Charles’ furious shouts erupted behind me. “Nancy, have you lost your mind?” I ignored the chaos inside and kept walking, leaving his house behind. As I waited for the elevator, Charles came charging out. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me back toward his place. “Go back and apologize! How can you be so petty with a kid?” I yanked myself free from his grip, my eyes blazing as I yelled back, “Charles, don’t you think the one who should apologize is that brat with no manners?” Out of nowhere, a sharp slap landed across my face. I froze, stunned. “Tyler’s already got it rough without a dad,” Charles snapped. “Can’t you just cut him some slack? Calling a kid like that—don’t you think you’re being cruel?” His biased words almost made me laugh. “Cruel? Fine, call me cruel then. But if you think I’m apologizing, you’re dreaming.” Right then, the elevator doors slid open. I darted inside, leaving Charles fuming outside as the doors shut. Back at the house, I shared with Charles, I quickly packed up all my stuff and shipped it back home. I booked a flight for that same day—after seven years in his city for him, I was done for good this time. Charles blew up my phone with calls, but I didn’t pick up once. It was the first time I didn’t cave. Looking back, I was such a fool. He’d secretly flown overseas to see Quinn behind my back, all because she’d said, “I miss you.” He even sold the small company he’d spent years building from scratch to pay off Quinn’s debts, leaving himself with nothing. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg—I could go on forever. Time after time, I let my heart soften, feeling sorry for him. I even went behind his back, begging my family to pull strings and open doors for him, smoothing the way for his career. But no matter how much I did, I could never compete with Quinn, his childhood sweetheart. To him, she was worth more than his own life. And yet, even with all that, Quinn still chose someone else back then. When I dragged my bags through the door back home, my mom, Megan, gave me a sharp look. “Oh, you finally remembered where home is. Guess you’ve had enough of learning the hard way, huh?” Her words stung, but she still reached over to grab one of my bags. I flashed an awkward smile, not daring to talk back. She was right—I’d messed up, big time. My parents, Megan and Dylan, never liked Charles and were dead-set against us dating. It took me crying and begging for a solid month before they grudgingly gave in. But their approval came with a catch: they wanted Charles to move to our city. I knew right away he’d never agree—his pride was way too strong for that. So, in the end, I snuck off to his city behind their backs. Reality, though, had a way of slapping me hard across the face. That evening, my dad, Dylan Stone, got home from work just as we sat down to dinner. The second he saw me, he let out an angry huff and stormed off to his study. Megan shot me a quick look, nudging me with her eyes. I scrambled to my feet and followed him. Ten minutes later, I’d sweet-talked him out of his mood, and soon enough, our family was back to its old chatter and laughter. Over dinner, Dylan mentioned he’d found someone for me to meet—a hardworking guy who’d built himself up from nothing, ambitious and decent.
My parents both turned to me, their faces lit with hope. Megan hesitated, her lips twitching like she wanted to nudge me along, worried I’d push back. I’d always hated the idea of blind dates, after all. Dylan, meanwhile, sat there with a dark look, practically daring me to say no—like he’d rip me apart if I did. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Dad, send me his number. I’ll meet him tomorrow.” The second I said it, their faces broke into huge, relieved smiles. After dinner, I was deleting the handful of photos I’d taken with Charles over the years when his video call popped up. I figured it was as good a time to clear the air with him once and for all. But the second I answered, Charles launched into me. “I’m not coming home tonight. You need to think long and hard about what you did. You finally visit my mom’s place, and you manage to upset everyone. “I even had you buy that toy so Tyler might warm up to you, but this is how you treat a kid—like some shrew. “Now Tyler doesn’t like you, my mom doesn’t like you—what are we supposed to do about that?” He unloaded all that on me, then stared expectantly, waiting for my response. He didn’t even notice that the background behind me wasn’t our little shared home anymore. I almost laughed at how absurd it all sounded. Why should my relationship with him depend on some kid’s approval? Before I could say anything, a woman’s voice cut in, “Charles, how do I look in this?” A second later, Quinn appeared on screen, dressed in a slinky nightgown. She plopped down next to him, then spotted me in the call. “Oh, Nancy, it’s you! Don’t be mad at Charles, okay? Tyler’s already over it, so there’s no need to keep fighting with him.” Her tone dripped with fake concern, but it was obvious she was taunting me, pressing herself against Charles in that skimpy outfit. Charles’ face flushed down to his neck, but he didn’t budge—just let her stay glued to his side. Honestly, this wasn’t exactly new for them. They’d done plenty of couple-like things in the past, all while pretending to be friends on the surface. Out of nowhere, Megan appeared behind me. Before I could react, she snatched my phone from my hands. “Don’t ever contact my daughter again—you two are done,” she snapped, then hung up the call in a huff. Charles must’ve panicked because, not even a second later, he dialed back. I didn’t pick up—and I had no intention of doing so. Megan, worried I might waver, quickly chimed in with a reminder to stay strong. I gave her a reassuring pat, letting her know I wouldn’t cave this time. The next morning, I met the guy my parents had set me up with. He was polished, funny, and easy to talk to, plus his background matched ours pretty evenly. The conversation flowed, and by the end, we were both feeling good about it. His name was Nathan Smith—a rising star in the business world. Not even thirty, he’d already taken over his family’s company and turned it into a thriving success. My parents had done their homework: no messy dating history, just a guy who’d poured everything into his career and earned a stellar reputation. He seemed like someone worth building a life with. After our meeting, since our parents already knew each other, the two families wasted no time finalizing the engagement. The wedding was set for the end of the month—just a few days away. Late that night, after wrapping up a call with Nathan, I was aimlessly scrolling through my social feed when I stumbled across something ridiculous. Charles had taken Quinn and her son on a trip—staying in the same hotel, no less. Quinn had gone out of her way to post about it, complete with a caption and photos. Her caption read: [More than friends, not quite lovers—shouldn’t be long before we’re a real family of three.] The pictures? One of the hotel room’s double beds and another of Charles give her son a bath in the bathroom. The comments below were from Charles’ buddies and Quinn’s best friends—people I knew, all mutual connections. They were teasing her. [Guess you finally see how great Charles is now, huh?] Quinn replied with a shy emoji. Someone else commented: [Good thing you came around quick, or Charles might’ve ended up with someone else.] One of her friends added, suddenly enlightened: [Wait a sec—Charles dated that other girl for years and never proposed. Was he waiting for you all along? So happy for you, haha!] Then came a flood of congratulations. [Congrats! Wishing you a speedy wedding—maybe give Tyler a little sister next, and you’ll have the perfect boy-girl pair!] I smirked and deliberately copied that last comment, posting it myself. No sooner had it gone up than a classmate messaged me: [Did you and Charles break up?] I thought about it—technically, we hadn’t said it out loud, but it was pretty much a done deal. So I replied that: [Yeah, we’d split.] Once she got the confirmation, she offered some unexpected sympathy. [Charles is a total jerk. Good riddance—hope he and Quinn stay together forever and stop messing with anyone else.] I laughed it off, assuring her I was fine. I added: [I’m actually getting married soon. I’ll invite you guys when the time comes.] After exchanging a few pleasantries with her, I started flipping through my photo album. And pulled up a picture of a wedding dress I’d saved seven years ago. Time had changed things—what used to be my favorite gown now looked outdated and unappealing. It wasn’t expensive or anything special, and I couldn’t even remember why I’d loved it so much back then. For seven years it’d sat there, untouched. Looking at it now, I thought my old taste was pretty terrible. Just then, my phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Charles. Curious about what he’d have to say, I picked up. “Nancy, don’t get the wrong idea,” he said. “Quinn and I are sharing a room because it’s easier to look after Tyler. It’s a twin-bed room—you saw that. So don’t overthink it. “If you’re over what happened the other day, just wait for me at home like a good girl. Once I’ve taken them out to unwind, I’ll come get you, okay?” When I didn’t respond, he must’ve assumed I was still mad. His tone shifted to that soft, coaxing voice he used when he was trying to smooth things over—like he was talking to a kid. “Come on, don’t be upset. Even Tyler, a little kid, isn’t holding a grudge. You’re an adult—don’t make a big deal out of it. I shouldn’t have pushed you to apologize that day; I got carried away. Can you forgive me, babe?” He only ever called me “babe” when he knew he’d done something to upset me. In the past, I might’ve let it slide, but not anymore. I was ready to let go—to step out of this vague, messy thing he had with Quinn. I was done being a pawn in their little game. With that in mind, I smiled and said, “Well, have a great time then.” My voice carried no trace of jealousy—just pure, genuine cheer, which threw him off for a second. “Charles, honey, come to bed—Tyler wants you to cuddle him to sleep,” Quinn’s voice chimed in from the background. Charles fumbled a quick “Gotta go” and hung up in a rush. I took a deep breath and called Nathan, “Let’s move the wedding up—to the day after tomorrow.” He didn’t sound the least bit surprised. Instead, his voice softened with concern. “Are you okay? You don’t sound happy.” I hadn’t expected Nathan—pushing thirty with zero dating experience—to pick up on my mood so keenly. The night before the wedding, I sent the invitations to our class group chat, and it blew up almost instantly.
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