“It was just a prank. Mandy thought that it would be funny.”
Ben’s voice was calm, like this was all just some light-hearted joke I should laugh off. But I couldn’t.
How could I pretend that it was all okay? I took a deep breath, wiped away the tears that had started to form, and opened the door. “What kind of prank is that?” I snapped.
“Toothpicks? After I spent months saving up for something you really wanted, this is what you thought would be funny?”
His family gathered around as the tension escalated. His sister was still holding her phone, capturing every second of our argument, too.
I felt like I was on display. Like I was a zoo animal being prodded for a reaction. “You’re overreacting,” Ben said, crossing his arms.
“It’s just a joke. Lighten up.”
“Overreacting?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “This wasn’t a joke; it was cruel.
You’re a grown man, Ben, not some teenager. And the fact that you think this is funny shows just how little you actually care.”
The laughter from earlier had died down, replaced by awkward silence. His mother gave me a pointed look, like I was the one ruining Christmas.
“You didn’t need to blow up like this,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re ruining everyone’s mood.”
I could smell the turkey burning in the oven, but I made no move to get it out. I’d had enough.
This family was ridiculous. Instead, I grabbed my coat and my keys and headed for the door. The rest of Christmas was spent at my mom’s house.
The peace and quiet were everything I needed after Ben’s family. Ben texted me later, saying that he was sorry and that he’d bring my “real” gift the next day. Apparently, the toothpicks were his sister’s idea all along, and I should have taken the joke in my stride.
“I don’t know, Ash,” my mother said when I told her what happened earlier that day. “It just seems like they don’t have enough respect for you.”
“I agree,” I said, picking at my turkey and mayo sandwich. “It’s just that Ben has been doing this a lot lately.
Whenever his family says something, he’ll automatically go with whatever they say. It doesn’t matter if it conflicts with anything else. How am I supposed to marry a man like that?”
“Darling, the only thing I can tell you is that you need to think about this long and hard.
Is there a future with Ben or not?”
My mom left me sitting at the dining table alone and went to watch TV. As I sat there, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this went deeper than a bad prank. It wasn’t just about the gift.
It was about respect. And clearly, there wasn’t much of that in our relationship. The next day, Ben showed up with a small box.
His face was apologetic, but I was already checked out of our relationship. “Here’s your real gift,” he said, handing me the box. I took it, but it didn’t matter at all.
“Ben, I’ve thought about it, and this isn’t just about the gift. It’s about how little you thought of me,” I said. “What do you mean?” he asked, looking confused.
“I’ve been putting in so much effort, trying to make this work, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is fine.”
“What are you saying?” he asked. “I’m calling off the engagement.”
Ben was stunned. He stammered, trying to talk me out of it, but I had made up my mind.
The disrespect, the childish behavior, the disregard for my feelings… it was all too much. I needed more than that. A few days later, the situation took a turn.
Ben had been promised a new job. Head of Pediatrics at a well-known hospital, thanks to my father’s best friend, who was the chief of the hospital. But soon after I ended our engagement, I found out that he had lost his position.
Turns out, a malpractice lawsuit had come down on Ben from a patient’s parents. With that, his entire reputation came crumbling down around him. I hadn’t asked for any of this to happen, of course.
But karma has her way of showing up when you least expect it. A week after the breakup, Ben and his family showed up at my door, yelling at me for being “vindictive.” They accused me of sabotaging his career. “I didn’t do anything,” I said simply.
When they wouldn’t leave, I called the police, who kindly escorted them off my property. As I watched them go, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time. Relief.
The weight of the relationship, the hurt, the disrespect. It was all gone. What would you have done?
Source: amomma
