Margaret, Ethan’s mom, never thought I was good enough for her son. And unfortunately, he believed her. He called off our wedding and shattered my heart. So, for our final dinner together, I planned a goodbye gift neither of them would ever forget.
Ethan proposed on my apartment balcony—just the two of us, greasy takeout on the table, and too much wine in our systems. His hands trembled as he held out the ring, and that crooked smile of his made my heart melt. I said “Yes!” before he could even finish the question.
We started planning a small wedding—something quirky and personal. A ramen bar. A cosplay photo booth. It was perfectly us.
Ethan was a freelance web developer. I was a graphic designer who illustrated comics for small publishers and obsessed over anime. We didn’t care for luxury or tradition. We just needed each other.
Or so I believed.
A few weeks after the engagement, Ethan said it was time for me to meet his mother, Margaret. He’d been dodging it, and I hadn’t pushed. His sister once warned me Margaret was intense—she’d interrogated his last girlfriend about her savings account at dinner.
Still, I was hopeful. I wore something nice, did my hair, grabbed a bottle of Pinot, and drove over, repeating to myself, “It’s just dinner. Be yourself.”
Margaret welcomed me with too many smiles and compliments. “Lily, you’re even lovelier than your photos!” she beamed, stroking my hair. “So shiny! What’s your secret?”
“Uh… dandruff shampoo?” I answered awkwardly. She laughed like I was hilarious. I started to think maybe everyone had been wrong about her.
Dinner was homemade lasagna—real, not frozen. She poured my wine, asked about my work, and even laughed at my story about being mistaken for Sailor Moon at a comic convention. I had to explain manga vs. anime, but she seemed genuinely interested.
By dessert, I was starting to relax. Huge mistake.
After we ate, Margaret turned to Ethan sweetly. “Honey, can you help me with something in the bedroom?”
I offered to help, but she waved me off. “Just a little thing.”
I started cleaning up, humming to myself, thinking things had gone surprisingly well.
Ten minutes later, Ethan returned looking pale, like someone had punched him in the stomach.
“You okay?” I asked.
He motioned for me to follow him outside. On the porch, he exhaled hard. “Lily… my mom thinks this engagement is a mistake.”
I stared. “Excuse me?”
“She said I need someone with more to offer—someone with money. Someone who’ll make life easier.”
I stood frozen.
“She also thinks you’re not mature enough. Says you’re into cartoons and don’t bring enough to the table. And honestly… I’ve been thinking the same.”
He said it so casually, like it was logical. As if our love meant nothing.
I could’ve walked away right then. But I had one last move.
I smiled through my broken heart. “If that’s what you want, okay. But let’s have one final dinner together. Just us. At my place.”
He blinked. “For closure?”
I nodded. “Closure.”
He hesitated, but agreed. “Yeah. That sounds… mature.”
I smiled sweetly at Margaret on the way out, thanking her as though nothing had happened. I cried when I got home. Just once. Then I started planning.
The next morning, I called Caleb—one of the best tattoo artists in town. We’d bonded over anime and comics, and he’d inked several of my tattoos.
I told him my idea.
He didn’t even blink. “Hell yes. Let’s mess with him—emotionally, of course.”
Our “goodbye dinner” was a week later. Ethan showed up in cologne and his nicest shirt, giving me a smug half-smile like he expected me to beg for a second chance. I welcomed him in calmly, hiding every trace of heartbreak.
We had pasta, wine, soft music playing. I laughed at his bad jokes. He relaxed. Then came dessert.
Chocolate mousse. His favorite.
And next to it, I placed a small velvet box.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“A little something to remember me by.”
Inside the box was a voucher. For a tattoo.
He looked stunned. “A tattoo?”
“You always talked about wanting one,” I said. “Something meaningful on your back.”
He looked genuinely touched. “Wow. That’s really… grown-up of you.”
I smiled. “Guess I’m more mature than you thought.”
The next day, Ethan showed up at Caleb’s studio. Caleb told me he was practically giddy, bragging about how “freeing” the breakup felt. He never asked to see the design, just trusted us.
Hours later, Caleb texted me the photo of the finished piece.
I posted it on Instagram with no tag, knowing Ethan would see it.
Etched in bold, black script across his upper back:
Property of Margaret — Mama’s Boy For Life
By morning, I had angry voicemails from both Ethan and Margaret. I didn’t bother listening. My friends couldn’t stop laughing.
Ethan showed up at my door, pounding. “You tricked me! This is permanent!”
I looked him in the eye. “But I’m not ‘future material,’ right?”
He stood there stunned. I shut the door.
Margaret came by once too. I didn’t open it.
Six months later, I heard Ethan moved back in with Margaret after his freelance work dried up. He’s trying to get the tattoo removed, but laser treatments can only do so much. It’s still faintly there.
He’s on dating apps now. His bio says, “Looking for someone who values family.”
As for me? I’m with Caleb. Planning that revenge dinner brought us closer. He calls me his muse now. I help sketch his tattoo concepts, and my heart feels full again.
Margaret was right—I wasn’t built for her future.
But I built a much better one of my own.