Meeting my fiancé’s parents should have been an exciting milestone, but nothing could have prepared me for the tension and judgment that followed. Between the cold stares, sharp comments, and unexpected secrets, the evening became a whirlwind I’ll never forget.
Mark and I had been together for a year, and just recently, he proposed. It wasn’t the dreamy, candlelit moment I had envisioned as a little girl, but it was sincere, and I knew it came from a place of love.
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Besides, Mark and I would’ve gotten engaged eventually—it was just a matter of when.
He proposed shortly after we learned I was pregnant. The pregnancy wasn’t planned, but the moment we saw those two little lines, everything shifted. We were excited, nervous, and ready to face parenthood together.
That evening, we were supposed to have dinner with Mark’s parents, and I was a bundle of nerves.
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Mark always described them as strict and traditional, which made me feel more like I was preparing for an interview than a family dinner.
Still, I told myself I could win them over. I’d always had a knack for getting people to like me—or at least, that’s what I hoped.
When Mark got home from work, I wasted no time diving into my closet.
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I must have tried on at least ten outfits, spinning in front of the mirror and asking, “Is this okay?”
Each time, Mark smiled and said, “You look great.”
But “great” wasn’t enough. I needed to look flawless. First impressions were everything.
In the end, I laughed at myself, realizing I had ended up with the very first outfit I’d tried on.
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“Do you think they’ll like me?” I asked, nervously twisting my hair into place.
“Of course, they’ll like you. How could they not?” Mark replied, his eyes fixed on me through the mirror.
“But what if they don’t?” I asked, turning to face him, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.
“Then it doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice steady. “The only thing that matters is that I like you.”
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“Like?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.
Mark smirked. “I like you more than anyone. I love you even more.”
I chuckled softly. “Nice recovery.”
Mark leaned in and kissed me, his smile comforting and confident. “You’ll be amazing.”
Once we were set, I gently lifted the cherry pie I had baked for dinner.
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The warm, sweet scent was soothing, a subtle reminder that I’d put effort into tonight. Mark opened the car door for me, and we both slid in.
As we drove to his parents’ house, I couldn’t help but notice Mark’s grip on the steering wheel, tense and a little too tight.
His jaw was clenched, and his gaze remained fixed ahead. “Are you okay?” I asked gently.
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“Yeah,” he said, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. I reached over, taking his hand, unsure if I was trying to calm him or myself.
When we pulled up in front of the house, Mark let out a deep sigh and glanced at me. “Just… don’t say anything unnecessary, okay?”
“I won’t,” I promised, trying to steady my own nerves.
We walked to the door, hearts racing, and Mark rang the bell. A moment later, his mother appeared.
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“Hi, we’ve been waiting for you,” she said, her tone polite but sharp. “I’m Erin, though I assume you already know that,” she added, her gaze locked onto me.
“Yes, I’m Danica,” I replied, trying to keep my smile steady as I offered her the pie. “I baked a cherry pie. Mark told me it’s your favorite.”
Erin’s expression shifted immediately, her smile fading. “A pie, hmm? I thought the host was supposed to handle the food. Or do you think I can’t bake my own pie?”
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“No, of course not!” I responded quickly. “I just wanted to bring something nice. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She glanced at the pie, then back at me. “It’s fine. Come in,” she said, stepping aside without another word.
Dinner was excruciatingly quiet. The only sounds were the clinking of silverware and the occasional scrape of a chair.
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Mark had warned me that his family didn’t talk during meals, but I thought he was joking.
Sitting there in silence felt oddly stiff and uncomfortable. I glanced at Mark, but he only offered a small, reassuring smile.
When we were done eating, I got up to help Erin clear the table. She didn’t say much—just nodded and muttered a quick, “thank you.”
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We made our way to the living room, where Mark’s father, George, sat rigidly, barely acknowledging my presence.
He seemed indifferent, like I was an unwelcome guest he had no interest in entertaining. The conversation shifted to the wedding, but I didn’t have much to contribute.
“What kind of dress are you thinking of?” Erin asked, her eyes scanning me with a look that felt more like an evaluation than a question.
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Before I could answer, George spoke up. “Erin, leave the girl alone. You’ve been bombarding her with questions all evening.” His tone was gruff, but it was the first time he’d addressed me directly.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” I said, trying to sound calm and offering a small smile, though my nerves were starting to unravel.
“See, George? She doesn’t mind,” Erin replied, her smile finally softening toward me. It almost felt like approval, and I let out a quiet breath of relief.
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I glanced at Mark and smiled, taking his hand. His touch centered me. But the warmth of the moment faded as Erin’s smile stiffened.
“Danica, dear, in our family, we don’t show affection in public, especially before marriage,” she said, her voice cutting.
I pulled my hand away from Mark like it had burned me. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling mortified.
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“So,” Erin said, her attention returning to me, “what kind of dress are you thinking about? You have such a lovely figure. Something fitted and long would look stunning on you.”
I hesitated, my cheeks flushing. “Well, I won’t have this figure for much longer. I’ll be five months along by the wedding, so I was thinking something a little more flowing.”
Mark let out a soft groan and buried his face in his hands. My stomach sank.
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“Five months along?” Erin’s voice was sharp, her eyebrow raised in disbelief.
I nodded. “Pregnant,” I said, keeping it simple.
The room seemed to freeze. Erin gasped, clutching her chest as though I had just admitted to a crime. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, her voice dripping with shock. “What a disgrace! My son is going to have a child out of wedlock!”
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I blinked, shocked. “Pardon me, what?”
“This is disgraceful! You’re an embarrassment to our family! How could you do something like this before marriage?” Erin yelled, her voice growing louder with each word.
“We’re adults,” I said, attempting to stay composed. “We’re thrilled about this baby—”
“Danica, stop talking,” Mark murmured under his breath.
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“How could you pick such a shameless fiancée?” Erin yelled at Mark. “She must have seduced you!”
“Erin, stop yelling at her. She’s pregnant,” George’s voice cut through her rant.
“That’s the issue!” Erin wailed. “What will people think?” She turned to me. “Get out of my house! I never want to see you again!”
Tears welled up as I stammered, “What did I do? I don’t understand…”
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“You and your illegitimate child are a stain on this family!” Erin spat, her words cutting deep. “Maybe it’s not too late for an abortion?”
I gasped, my heart sinking. “What? What are you saying?” I cried, my voice breaking as tears threatened to spill. Mark remained silent, his expression unreadable.
“Danica, let’s go,” Mark finally said, his voice low as he grabbed my hand.
Once we were outside, his frustration erupted. “What was that?!” he yelled, his eyes burning with anger.
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“I should be asking you that!” I shot back, my voice trembling with emotion.
“I told you not to say anything unnecessary!” he snapped, frustration evident in his tone.
“I didn’t know our child was ‘unnecessary’ to you!” I yelled, the anger and hurt bubbling over.
“Not to me—to them,” he replied, his words cold and cutting.
“You said their opinions didn’t matter!” I cried, shaking my head in disbelief.
“I warned you they were conservative,” he said, his voice flat, like he was already bracing for the fallout.
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I looked at him, my heart shattering. “I’m staying at my place tonight,” I said, my voice steady, before walking away.
I still had a month left on the lease for my old apartment, so Mark drove me there. The ride was quiet, filled with tension.
When he stopped, I got out without saying anything. Once inside, I collapsed onto the couch, tears flooding my face.
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My chest tightened as I replayed the dinner over and over in my mind. Mark hadn’t stood up for me or our baby.
How could he let his mother say those things? My thoughts raced, and I placed a hand on my stomach, wondering if all this stress was affecting the baby.
The next morning, a firm knock jolted me awake. Groggy, I stumbled to the door and opened it. George was standing there, his face unreadable.
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“How are you?” George asked, his voice steady yet firm.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped, crossing my arms, still fuming from the earlier encounter.
“I came to apologize for Erin,” he said, his gaze dropping for a moment. “She can be… overly emotional.”
I hesitated, the tension still hanging in the air, but then I stepped back. “Would you like to come in?”
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“No, I won’t stay long,” he said, shaking his head. “I just needed to explain. This is really personal for her. Her parents were extremely conservative, even more so than she is. By the time we married, she was already pregnant with Mark.”
I looked at him, speechless. “What? Then why did she react so harshly to my pregnancy?”
George let out a sigh, looking uncomfortable. “She’s always felt a sense of shame about it. She believes we should have waited. While she doesn’t regret having Mark, it’s something she still battles with. I just thought you should know.”
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I frowned, still stung but trying to understand. “So, she treated me like that to protect some outdated sense of pride?”
George nodded. “Yes. You can share this with Mark or even tell Erin’s family if she keeps causing trouble.”
“I won’t say anything,” I whispered. “I don’t want her to feel as hurt as I do right now.”
George gave me a slight nod, then turned to go.
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After he left, I made up my mind to go back to Mark. But as I stepped outside, I froze. There he was, standing with a bouquet of flowers.
“I’m sorry,” Mark said, his gaze meeting mine. “I should have stood up for you and the baby. I didn’t know what to do, and I was scared.”
“Thank you for apologizing. It hurt so much,” I confessed.
“It won’t happen again. I promise, I’ll always stand by you,” he said, his voice firm.
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I nodded, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Thank you.”
Mark leaned in, and I kissed him.
Just then, his phone buzzed. He moved aside to take the call.
“It was my mom,” he said when he returned. “She wants to apologize. She asked what your favorite pie is.”
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I gave a small smile. “Tell her I love cherry pie as well.”
Mark chuckled. “Seems like you two have something in common already.”
“You have no idea,” I murmured, allowing him to pull me into a comforting embrace.
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