My Son Invited Me to His Engagement Party — Then Introduced Me to the Woman Who Ruined My Marriage

I want you to meet her in person.”

Fast forward two weeks. I’m standing outside his Brooklyn building, holding a bottle of champagne that cost more than I told myself it did.

Music drifts down the stairwell, along with laughter and the smell of something that definitely isn’t my son’s cooking.

I knock.

The door flies open.

“Mom!” David beams and pulls me into a hug that nearly knocks the champagne out of my hand. “You made it.”

He looks older.

Not old—just… steadier. Tom’s jaw, my eyes, and some version of himself that’s only his.

The apartment is full of people. Cheap string lights.

Music a bit too loud. A cluster of twenty-somethings in the kitchen arguing over charcuterie like it’s high art.

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