Here’s a shorter version that keeps the story intact while trimming down the extra fluff and repetition:
I’m Katie, a nurse. Long shifts are tough, but I love what I do.
When I moved in with my boyfriend, Liam, I knew he was close to his mom. I didn’t realize just how close—until chaos hit on our first day living together.
Midway through my 12-hour hospital shift, Liam stormed in, waving a ketchup-stained shirt. “You have to wash this. I need it for dinner tonight,” he said, like it was the most normal request ever.
I was stunned. “You want me to leave work… to wash your shirt?”
He shrugged. “My mom always handled these things.”
I promised to bring the cleaned shirt to the restaurant, but I had a better idea. After work, I called the expert—his mom.
That evening, Liam’s mom showed up at the fancy restaurant, proudly delivering the shirt with all the dramatic flair of a stage play. “Here you go, sweetheart! Don’t forget your napkin!”
His friends burst into laughter. Liam turned beet red.
Watching from the corner, I raised my glass. He spotted me and groaned, “You got my mom involved?”
“You said she always helped,” I said sweetly.
He apologized, promising to handle things himself. A few days later, he tried doing laundry solo—and shrank his favorite sweater.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I teased. He grinned. “I’m trying.”
Let me know if you want an even shorter version or something with a more dramatic or humorous tone!
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