Mark and I had been together for a year, and he recently proposed. It wasn’t a fairytale moment, but it was full of love, especially since we had just found out I was pregnant. The news wasn’t planned, but we were excited and ready for parenthood.
That evening, we were having dinner with his strict, traditional parents, and I was nervous. I spent ages picking out an outfit, seeking perfection. Mark reassured me, saying, “The only thing that matters is that I like you.”
When we arrived, his mother, Erin, was immediately cold. She seemed displeased when I brought a cherry pie I had baked for dinner, though she let us in. Dinner was painfully quiet, and Erin’s questions about the wedding were uncomfortable, especially when she learned I was pregnant. Her response was harsh, calling the pregnancy a disgrace and suggesting an abortion.
I felt humiliated, but Mark didn’t defend me. After the dinner, we argued, and I stayed at my old apartment that night, feeling heartbroken. The next morning, Mark’s father, George, came to apologize, explaining Erin’s past struggles with pregnancy before marriage. He also told me not to tell anyone about their family’s secret.
Later, Mark apologized for not standing up for me, and I forgave him. As he was leaving, he got a call from his mom, who wanted to apologize and asked about my favorite pie. I smiled faintly, realizing that maybe, in time, things could improve.
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