At 45, my mom had finally found love again, and I wanted to be happy for her. But when I met her new fiancé, something didn’t feel right. I couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut. The more I observed him, the more certain I became—I had to stop this before it was too late.
When my parents divorced, I actually felt relief. I still loved them both, but seeing them together as a couple had always been painful. They were like strangers forced to live under the same roof, so when they separated, it felt freeing.
As I grew older, I encouraged my mom to find someone new. She often complained of loneliness, especially in the quiet evenings. I wanted her to have companionship—someone to share meals with, someone to talk to after a long day.
I even helped set up a dating app for her, scrolling through profiles and trying to find a suitable match. But nothing ever caught her interest—until one day, she called me, voice bright with excitement, saying she wanted me to meet her new boyfriend.
I imagined a kind, steady man who would make her laugh and treat her well. But when I met him, my excitement evaporated.
She invited me over for dinner. I approached carefully, rehearsing questions in my head. All she had told me was that his name was Halcy and that he was a pastry chef.
I picked up a bottle of wine on the way—a small luxury considering my tight budget. That one bottle meant eating instant noodles for the next week, but I wanted to make a good impression.
At her door, my legs trembled slightly. Why was I nervous? I wasn’t the one being tested—Halcy was.
I rang the bell. My mom greeted me warmly, and we stepped inside. My stomach twisted when I saw a man near the table who looked about my age—dark hair, neat beard, confident posture.
“You didn’t tell me Halcy had a son,” I whispered.
“No, Inden. This is Halcy,” Mom said, smiling as if everything was normal.
I froze. He stepped forward politely. “Nice to meet you. I had to convince Opal to set this up,” he said.
Something inside me snapped. “Are you kidding me?!” I shouted. “This is a joke?!”
Mom tried to calm me. “Inden, he’s my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?! He’s my age! You could be his mother!”
“Almost your age,” she corrected. “Halcy is 25—two years older than you.”
I was furious. “How could you even think of dating someone this young?”
Mom softened. “I understand your reaction. But Inden, I’ve never felt this connection with anyone else. I’ve never been this happy.”
I scoffed. “What kind of connection? Like mother and son?”
Halcy intervened. “Let’s calm down and talk.”
I turned to him. “Are you with her for the money?”
“I’m not,” he said calmly.
“Yeah, sure,” I muttered.
Mom’s face turned red. “You said you’d support me!”
“I didn’t know your choice was 25 years old!” I yelled. “You two need to break up!”
“We’re not breaking up,” Mom said. “Halcy proposed. We’re getting married in two months.”
I was speechless.
For days, I struggled to accept that my mother was engaged to someone my age. Every time I imagined them together, it felt unnatural. I wanted proof that he was only after her money.
I called Mom, pretending to make peace. “If Halcy makes you happy, I’ll support you,” I told her. She was overjoyed.
I helped with dress fittings, cake tastings, and decorations—all the while watching Halcy carefully. But he never slipped. He was polite, charming, patient, and had answers for every question.
Days before the wedding, I panicked. I had nothing. Maybe Halcy really did love my mom.
Finally, I faced my mom. “I accept Halcy and fully support you,” I said.
On the wedding day, Mom realized she had left her phone at home. I searched, found a locked drawer, and inside were papers—Debt notices. Property documents signed by Halcy in her name. My heart sank.
I ran to the venue, shouting, “Stop the wedding! Halcy is only with you for the money! I have proof!”
Gasps filled the room. Mom was furious, but Halcy stepped forward.
“Your mom told me you’ve always dreamed of owning a restaurant. We were buying one for you with the wedding money,” he said.
I froze. He explained that the debts were temporary—he had covered the difference to secure the restaurant for me.
Guilt washed over me. I had almost destroyed my family. I whispered, “Please forgive me. I was too harsh.”
Halcy and Mom reminded me gently that my actions could have lasting consequences if I pushed too hard. I took my seat, weighed down by the lessons I had learned—rushing to protect someone can sometimes hurt more than help.