Weeks turned into months. Their bond deepened. I’d hear her laughing on the phone, a sound I hadn’t heard in ages. My own curiosity grew, of course, but I respected her space. This was her love story, not mine to interfere with.
Then, ONE DAY, she called me, practically buzzing. “He’s coming! We’re finally going to meet him!” My heart leaped for her. We finally arranged to meet. It was a dinner at our place, an intimate welcome. I was excited and wanted everything to be perfect! I spent all day cleaning, cooking her favorite dishes, arranging flowers. I picked out a new dress, wanting to make a good impression, wanting Aaron to see how much my mom was loved.
The doorbell rang. My heart pounded, a mixture of anticipation and pure excitement. This was it. My mom’s new chapter. Our family finally complete again.
I straightened my dress, took a deep breath, and walked to the door, a wide, welcoming smile on my face.
I opened the door.
And there he stood.
My breath hitched.
My smile evaporated. The flowers in the vase behind me seemed to wilt.
It was HIM.
The man I had loved for three years.
MY partner.
HIS eyes met mine, wide with a flicker of panic, then darted to my mom’s beaming face behind me.
THE SCENE FROZE. The gentle hum of the refrigerator, the scent of dinner, the warm glow of the lamps – everything was suddenly sharp, piercing.
My mom, oblivious, stepped forward, her smile radiant. “Aaron, darling!” she cooed, her arms already reaching out for him.
I felt the blood drain from my face. My knees buckled. My world crumbled into dust.
He forced a smile, a grotesque mask of affection, as he embraced my mother.
HE had been leading a double life. With MY MOTHER.
The man I thought I knew. The man who kissed me goodbye this morning. The man who had promised me a future.
The man who was about to embrace my own mother as her new love.
I stood there, a silent scream trapped in my throat, watching my entire life shatter, not knowing who I was more sickened by – him, or myself for being so utterly blind.
