The breaking point came at his mother’s birthday dinner.
His mom, Linda, had always been polite but distant with me. Never cruel. Just cool. Her birthday was a big family event—dresses, wine, mountains of food.
That afternoon I stood in front of my closet close to tears. Nothing fit right. I squeezed into a black dress that zipped but showed everything.
Jake looked me over.
“You’re wearing that?”
“It’s the only non-maternity dress that fits.”
He sighed. “Fine. Just don’t go crazy with the food. I don’t want you undoing your progress.”
I said nothing.
