When my parents divorced, I was actually relieved. Their marriage had been strained for years, and living with that tension was hard for all of us. So when they finally separated, it felt like a fresh start. As I grew older, I encouraged my mom to find someone new—she often told me how lonely she felt, especially in the quiet evenings when the house was too empty.
Wanting her to be happy, I even helped set her up on a dating app, scrolling through profiles and hoping she’d find someone kind and steady. But no one seemed to catch her eye — until she called me one day, excited to introduce her new fiancé, Aaron, a pastry chef.
I wanted to be happy for her, but the moment I met Aaron, something didn’t feel right. He was only 25 — almost my age — and the thought of my mom, at 45, engaged to someone so young shocked me. I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that he might only be after her money.
When I confronted them, my anger came out in a rush. I told them to break up, accusing Aaron of being a gold-digger. Mom insisted she loved him, and Aaron stayed calm and polite, but I didn’t trust either of them.