When I Repeated My Parents’ Love Story Chapter 01

When I Repeated My Parents’ Love Story Chapter 01

My parents are the lovesick sidekicks in someone else’s romance—Dad chases the heroine, Mom chases the hero.

The bleach-blond troublemaker clicked his tongue.

“Like family, like daughter. Runs in the genes, I guess. The whole family’s got doormat DNA.”

My parents froze.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

The punk smirked at them, savoring it.

“You don’t know? Your precious daughter’s been throwing herself at me.”

“She bombed an exam on purpose just so she’d be assigned to the same Saturday remedial class as me.”

“She even said if she can’t marry me someday, she’ll hand over every dime of the inheritance you’ll leave her!”

My parents lost it and started beating the bleach-blond punk senseless.

The hero came rushing in, and my mom ripped into him, jabbing her finger in his face.

“What, are you impotent? Can’t you have your own kid?”

“You had to go adopt some bleach-blond punk to corrupt my daughter?”

—

I walked through the door after school and knew something was off the second I stepped inside.

Normally my parents went their separate ways, and the house always felt like a cold, empty hotel lobby.

That was normal. That was home.

Today, they were both on the couch, huddled together, faces tight.

The moment they saw me, they pulled apart and shot me looks I couldn’t read.

Something was definitely wrong. Seriously wrong.

Mom jumped up first, plastering on this sugary smile I’d never seen in my life.

She rushed over and grabbed my hand—her palm was actually clammy—and her voice came out so soft it was almost dripping.

“Chloe, you’re home! You must be exhausted. Did the teachers pile on too much homework today?”

The sudden sweetness set my teeth on edge.

My brain went straight to panic mode. Oh god. They found out about the math test I deliberately tanked so I’d land in Lucas’s Saturday remedial class.

Because my whole life, the only thing Mom ever cared about was when I’d next go kiss up to the hero, Ethan Frost.

And Dad only ever worried about his company, or whether the heroine, Angela Hart, was happy or having a bad day.

Since when did they care about my grades?

Before I could answer, Dad came over too and cleared his throat, his face carrying this stiff, unnatural weight.

“Chloe, you mentioned before that you thought the education system in England seemed appealing. You were considering studying abroad, right?”

“How about we don’t wait until you finish high school? We can start the paperwork now and get you out there.”

Now I was really confused.

Come on. I bombed one math test. That’s grounds for shipping me off to a foreign country to suffer?

I forced a shaky smile, my fingers practically clawing through the strap of my backpack.

“Dad, Mom, I’m doing great here. I’ve got lots of friends at school. I really don’t want to leave right now. And school’s fine. Not tiring at all.”

Right as I finished, both their phones pinged at the exact same moment.

They both pulled out their phones on reflex, and I peeked over.

Crap. The screen lit up with the midterm report card.

Math. Big fat zero. Burning a hole right through the screen.

My stomach dropped. I braced myself for the hurricane.

After decades of doing whatever they wanted, was I finally about to get tag-teamed over a grade?

But they just exchanged one look.

Their faces twisted for a split second, like they’d swallowed poison and were trying not to gag, but neither one said a word to me. Mom even reached up and ruffled my hair, her voice softening even more.

“Has Chloe been pushing herself too hard? Maybe the pressure got to you and you just couldn’t perform.”

“It’s nothing. One bad test doesn’t mean anything. Tomorrow, your dad and I are taking you out. We’ll have a fun day and help you unwind.”

Dad jumped in right behind her.

“Yes, exactly. You need to balance work and play. Tomorrow’s all about fun. Forget homework, forget everything. I’ll rent out the whole amusement park for you. You can do whatever you want.”

They kept shooting me these hesitant, helpless looks that I just couldn’t figure out.

But once I realized they weren’t going to interrogate me about the zero, the rock in my gut dropped with a thud. I nodded like crazy.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

I grabbed my bag and bolted for my room, terrified they’d change their minds if I waited one more second.

Before my door clicked shut, I caught their low voices murmuring in the living room.

I made out the words “bleach-blond punk” and “can’t let this slide.”

I didn’t think much of it. Figured they’d gotten tangled up in some new drama with the hero and heroine again.