Then one morning, three months after Tom and I started dating, someone knocked on my apartment door.
I wasn’t expecting anyone.
Tom was at work. Maya was out of town.
I opened the door in my pajamas, coffee mug in hand.
Stella and Richard stood on my doorstep.
I actually gasped. The mug almost slipped from my hands.
“What are you doing here?”
Stella looked different. Smaller somehow.
Her perfect makeup couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes.
“We need to talk,” she said softly. “Please. May we come in?”
Every instinct screamed at me to slam the door in their faces.
But some twisted part of me needed to hear what they’d say.
I stepped aside.
They sat on my couch like strangers in a waiting room.
“We came to apologize,” Richard said, and he actually looked uncomfortable. “We were wrong about you. Terribly wrong.”
Stella nodded, her eyes filling with tears I didn’t trust.
“Ben’s been miserable,” she continued. “We thought Mia would make him happy, but he hated her. They broke up after two months.”
She paused.
“And then he started eating. All the time. Stress eating, the doctors said.”
I didn’t say anything. Just waited.
“He gained over 60 pounds,” Richard added. “And suddenly, people treated him differently.”
Stella was crying now.
“We never understood what we did to you until we watched it happen to our son.”
She took a breath.
“Ben loves you, Stephanie. He’s never stopped loving you.”
“And we’re begging you, please give him another chance. Marry him. We’ll support you both.”
The words hung between us.
Part of me wanted to scream.
But before I could respond, I heard footsteps behind me.
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