That night, Theo arrived with tulips, non-alcoholic wine (since he knew I was exhausted from work), and a cake from my favorite bakery. Something warm bloomed in my chest. We talked, laughed, and dreamed together.
Candles flickered, soft music played, and as he gently touched my hand, he said, “After all the heartbreaks, I never thought I’d feel this way again… and then you came along.”
And then—
“ACHOO!”
From inside the closet.
Theo froze. “Are we not alone?”
I turned, opened the door…
“Mom?!”
There she was. Sitting in the dark. Wearing a headlamp. Holding a thermos.
“What… what are you doing?” I gasped.
“I was just making sure. Listening. Evaluating. I didn’t interfere!” she defended.
Theo, somehow, managed a polite smile. “Good evening. I’m Theo. Nice to meet you.”
And so began the interrogation.
Theo gave me a look that said, Is this a joke?
I gave him one back: No. This is my life.
Then, Mom stood up. “Now, a test.”
“A test?” Theo echoed.
“Wipe the table. No streaks. If you leave even one mark—you’re not for her.”
“Mom, stop!” I protested, mortified.
But to my shock… Theo didn’t hesitate. He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a sponge, and wiped the table flawlessly.
She inspected it. Nodded. Then, dramatically, handed him a paper.
He read it. His smile faded. Without a word, he handed it to me and left.
I looked down:
