Max and I had been married for three years and dated for two before that. His family had a lovely tradition — monthly dinners at their favorite restaurant, where I always felt welcome. But recently, those gatherings stopped, replaced by Max’s sudden weekly “work dinners.”
When I asked, he claimed he was busy with a project and needed to network. Still, something felt off. Our conversations had dwindled, and a quiet distance settled between us.
One evening, needing a break, I met some friends at a café. Across the street, I spotted Max — not with coworkers, but with his entire family, enjoying dinner like nothing had changed. I left without confronting him.
A week later, when he claimed to have another work dinner, I followed him. Again, he was at the same restaurant with his family. I approached the building, but before going in, Karina — Max’s brother’s fiancée — saw me. When I asked why I hadn’t been invited, her response stung: “Some of us have been part of this family longer.”
Hurt and confused, I confronted the whole family at their next dinner. That’s when Max’s mother handed me an envelope — two plane tickets and a planned getaway. It was a surprise meant to rekindle our spark.
Max admitted he’d been struggling to connect with me and had involved the family to help. He apologized for the secrecy. Just as things were calming down, Karina lashed out in jealousy, furious that no one had done something similar for her. In a dramatic moment, she even threw a drink — which Max shielded me from.
Franklin, her long-time fiancé, finally ended things, saying their relationship had long since stopped working.
The family dinners resumed. Max and I went on our trip, rediscovered each other, and promised never to let silence or secrets grow between us again.
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