When my mom remarried at 45, I was happy for her — until I met her fiancé, Aaron. Instantly, I felt uneasy. I wanted her to be happy, but something about him felt wrong.
Growing up after my parents’ divorce, I always wished my mom would find someone new. I helped her search online and cheered when she finally asked me to meet her boyfriend. I imagined someone kind and steady — but Aaron was neither.
At dinner, I froze when I saw him: he was about my age. My heart sank. My mom was smiling, but I couldn’t believe she’d choose someone so young — practically my peer. Shock turned to anger, and I demanded they break up. She refused: she was in love and they planned to marry in two months.
Though I didn’t believe him, I decided to stay calm and dig deeper. I pretended to support them while secretly watching Aaron. He remained polite and flawless. No slip-ups. Doubt crept in — maybe he loved her after all.
On the wedding day, I found locked papers: debt notices, property under her name signed by him. I panicked and burst into the ceremony, accusing him of marrying her for money. The crowd gasped. But then she revealed the truth: the debts were real — because he had financed the purchase of a restaurant for me, fulfilling my dream. He planned to work for free as pastry chef.
I froze. I had nearly destroyed everything — my mom, Aaron, and the surprise he’d worked so hard for. Tears and guilt washed over me. I apologized. But my mom was too hurt. She told me not to come near them. Aaron stepped between us and said I’d regret pushing him away. I walked out in tears, realizing I’d almost ruined my family.