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My dad cooked spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread, the same meal he’d made for special occasions throughout my entire childhood.
He talked more that night than I’d heard him talk in months, laughing at Ethan’s stories, asking questions about his work.
“He’s good to you.”
“He is, Dad.”
“That’s all that matters, sweetheart.”
When Ethan proposed six months later, I said yes without hesitation.
The problems started almost immediately.
Not with Ethan… with his family.
His parents owned a small chain of local shops. Nothing extravagant, but enough to make them comfortable and wealthy. Ample to make them feel superior.
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