Chapter 3
I stared at the phone until the words blurred.
Mom noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
That was a lie.
She had suffered enough for one night.
But Marcus looked over my shoulder.
His face changed.
“Man.”
Mom immediately knew.
“What is it?”
I locked the screen.
“Later.”
She held out her hand.
“David.”
“No.”
“I’m not a child.”
“I know.”
“Then stop protecting me by hiding things.”
That sentence hit harder than she intended.
Because that was exactly what I had always done.
Whenever Stephie made a strange comment, I minimized it.
Whenever Mom seemed uncomfortable, I told her everything would improve.
I thought I was protecting both relationships.
Really, I was protecting myself from conflict.
I handed her the phone.
She read the message.
Her face went still.
Not shocked.
That was worse.
“You knew.”
She gave the phone back.
“I suspected.”
“How long?”
“David.”
“How long?”
She sighed.
“Months.”
My anger shifted.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you loved her.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No.”
I stepped away.
“You let me marry someone who hated you.”
Mom’s eyes flashed.
“I did not let you do anything.”
I stopped.
She rarely raised her voice.
“You are a grown man.”
Her expression tightened.
“I raised you to make your own choices.”
“I would have chosen differently if I knew.”
“Would you?”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Mom continued.
“Every time I hinted that Stephie and I were uncomfortable around each other, what did you say?”
I knew.
“She needs time.”
“And when I said her friends made me feel out of place?”
“They’re just different.”
“And when I changed my dress?”
I looked down.
“You told me not to worry.”
Mom’s voice softened.
“I tried.”
My shame grew.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“I’m sorry I made you responsible for keeping my relationship comfortable.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“That is closer.”
Marcus cleared his throat.
“Maybe we should get out of here.”
We drove to Mom’s apartment.
Small.
Two bedrooms.
Second floor.
Same building where she had lived since I was fifteen.
She had never moved because rent stayed reasonable.
I had offered many times to help her buy something.
She always refused.
“Save your money.”
Now I understood how absurd it was that I lived in a luxury condo provided by Stephie’s father while Mom carried groceries up two flights of stairs.
At midnight, Mom made tea.
That was what she did when life broke apart.
Tea.
Toast.
Then truth.
My phone kept buzzing.
Messages from Stephie.
Please answer.
I’m sorry.
My parents are making everything worse.
I love you.
We can fix this.
Then calls.
I silenced them.
The unknown number messaged again.
DO YOU WANT THE CHAT?
I replied.
WHO IS THIS?
The answer came.
SOMEONE WHO SHOULD HAVE SPOKEN EARLIER.
Then screenshots arrived.
The bridesmaids’ group chat.
Stephie’s name appeared everywhere.
At first, silly wedding complaints.
Flowers.
Food.
Photographer.
Then Mom.
BRIDESMAID: Is David’s mom wearing that discount dress?
STEPHIE: Not anymore. I handled it.
Another.
STEPHIE: She keeps trying to act like she belongs with my family.
Another.
STEPHIE: David worships her. It’s honestly weird.
My jaw tightened.
Then the worst.
BRIDESMAID: Are you worried she’ll cry during the ceremony?
STEPHIE: She cries over everything. I just hope she doesn’t smell like cleaning products.
A laughing emoji.
Then Stephie again.
STEPHIE: Once we’re married, boundaries are changing.
I stopped.
Mom was across the table.
“What?”
I kept reading.
BRIDESMAID: Meaning?
STEPHIE: David needs to stop acting like her husband.
My stomach turned.
STEPHIE: We’ll probably move farther away eventually.
BRIDESMAID: Does he know?
STEPHIE: He’ll adjust.
I felt physically sick.
Mom watched me.
“Read it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then I will imagine worse.”
She was right.
I handed her the phone.
She read slowly.
Her eyes watered at one line.
David needs to stop acting like her husband.
Mom placed the phone down.
“I wondered.”
“What?”
“If she thought we were too close.”
I stared.
“You’re my mother.”
“Yes.”
“You raised me alone.”
“I know.”
“What was I supposed to do? Pretend you didn’t exist once I got married?”
“That may have been what she wanted.”
My anger became something colder.
Marriage requires boundaries.
I understood that.
A spouse should become central.
But Stephie did not want balance.
She wanted removal.
My phone rang.
Stephie.
This time I answered.
“What?”
She sounded relieved.
“David.”
“Who sent me the group chat?”
Silence.
“What?”
“Don’t.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
She exhaled.
“Probably Rachel.”
One bridesmaid.
“Why?”
“Because she’s angry at me.”
“What did you do?”
“That’s not important.”
“It is now.”
Stephie started crying.
“Can we please talk about us?”
“We are.”
“No, you’re collecting reasons to hate me.”
“I’m reading your words.”
“They were jokes.”
“Again.”
“What?”
“That word.”
I stood.
“Everything cruel becomes a joke after you get caught.”
She was silent.
I continued.
“You planned to move me away from Mom.”
“No.”
“You literally wrote it.”
“I meant eventually.”
“Without telling me.”
“I assumed we would make decisions as a married couple.”
“Then why tell your friends before telling me?”
No answer.
“Stephie.”
“I was frustrated.”
“With what?”
“You always choose her.”
I froze.
“When?”
“Everything.”
“Give me one example.”
She sounded angrier now.
“Our anniversary dinner.”
“What about it?”
“You left early.”
“Mom was in the emergency room.”
“It was food poisoning.”
“I didn’t know that when she called.”
“You stayed with her six hours.”
I could not believe what I was hearing.
“She was alone.”
“So?”
That one word ended something.
Stephie seemed to realize it too.
“David, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“You did.”
My voice dropped.
“My mother being alone and sick irritated you because it interrupted dinner.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Is it?”
She started crying again.
“I wanted to be your priority.”
“You were.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You were my partner.”
“That’s not the same.”
I sat down slowly.
Finally, I understood the competition I had refused to see.
Stephie did not want love.
She wanted ranking.
And Mom’s existence threatened her.
“Did your parents teach you this?”
Silence.
“What?”
“That love means someone else has to lose.”
“Don’t bring my parents into it.”
“They’re already in it.”
“My father is furious.”
“I don’t care.”
“He says he’ll speak to your boss tomorrow.”
There it was.
The threat.
Stephie lowered her voice.
“Come home tonight.”
“I don’t have a home there anymore.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
“You’re still my husband.”
I looked at the ring on Mom’s kitchen table.
Legally, maybe.
Emotionally, no.
“I’m calling an attorney tomorrow.”
Stephie stopped breathing.
“David.”
“I want an annulment if possible.”
“No.”
“If not, divorce.”
“No!”
Mom looked toward me.
Stephie screamed through the phone.
“You cannot throw me away because of your mother!”
I closed my eyes.
“You still don’t understand.”
Then a man’s voice came through behind her.
Richard.
“Give me the phone.”
I heard movement.
Then Richard spoke.
“David.”
“What?”
“If you file anything, I will make your professional life very difficult.”
I almost smiled.
“Good.”
He paused.
“What did you say?”
“You finally said it clearly enough to record.”
Silence.
Mom’s eyes widened.
I looked at my phone screen.
Recording.
I had activated it the moment Stephie mentioned my boss.
Richard’s voice changed.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
I ended the call.
Marcus, who had been sitting on Mom’s couch, stared.
“Man.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Your wedding ended three hours ago and you already have blackmail evidence.”
Mom shot him a look.
“Not helpful.”
“Sorry.”
For the first time all night, I laughed.
It hurt.
But it felt good.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Not Stephie.
Rachel.
The bridesmaid.
DAVID, I’M THE ONE WHO SENT THE SCREENSHOTS.
Then another.
THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE YOU NEED TO KNOW.
My stomach sank.
I typed.
WHAT?
Her answer came immediately.
May you like
STEPHIE DIDN’T ONLY PLAN TO DISTANCE YOU FROM YOUR MOM.
SHE AND HER FATHER HAD A PLAN FOR YOUR MONEY TOO.
