When I Repeated My Parents’ Love Story Chapter 03

When I Repeated My Parents’ Love Story Chapter 03

The bang on the table made me flinch so hard I nearly dropped a rib. I stared at them, eyes wide.

“Why not? Isn’t this what you always do? You chase after Angela with desserts, you chase after Ethan with wine.”

“Last time Angela said she wanted fresh cherries, Dad flew overseas that same night to get them.”

“Ethan caught a cold and Mom camped outside his building for three days bringing him ginger tea. So why is today any different?”

My parents’ pupils shrank. Shock flickered through their eyes first, then got swallowed whole by this thick, drowning regret and pain.

Dad opened his mouth. Nothing came out. For a long time.

Mom’s eyes went red and her lips trembled, but neither of them offered a single word of explanation. They just stared at the desserts and the wine on the table like the stuff had suddenly turned radioactive.

I didn’t have the mental energy to decode their emotions. I waved the server over.

“Can we get a mango mousse to go? And that bottle of Bordeaux. And… two orders of the smoked duck sliders!”

The server nodded and turned, but Mom shot her hand out and clamped down on my wrist. Her voice came out hoarse.

“Don’t pack anything. Chloe, we’re done here. We’re going home.”

Lunch that day sat in my stomach like a stone. My parents were completely checked out. They barely touched the ribs I loved. When we got home, they didn’t bolt toward the hero and heroine’s orbit like they always did. They buried themselves in the study instead.

The lock clicked shut and they didn’t even come out to make dinner.

I sprawled on the couch scrolling through my phone, my brain churning.

Why didn’t they run to Angela and Ethan today?

Did they have a fight?

Well, comes with the territory when you’re a simp. They’ve been licking boots for years. How are they still not used to it?

Right as the thought landed, my phone pinged. A message from Lucas!

I opened it. One word. “K.”

I lit up like a Christmas tree. I clutched the phone and grinned like an idiot, thumbs flying across the screen.

“Lucas Lucas Lucas! I went to Westbrook today! The gates are amazing!”

Ten minutes of silence. Then he replied. “Cool.”

I was still ecstatic. I rolled around on the couch kicking my feet. I didn’t even notice the study door had opened.

At nine that night, my parents knocked on my bedroom door.

They walked in carrying a thick stack of photos, their faces as serious as an intervention.

“Chloe, come sit.”

Mom patted the bed and laid the photos out in front of me.

Portrait after portrait of boys in school blazers or suits, every single one of them clean-cut and polished. Little sticky notes clung to the corners. “Valedictorian at Westbrook Prep.” “Son of Dad’s business partner, just back from Oxford.” “Old-money family, concert pianist.”

Dad cleared his throat and put on his weightiest voice.

“Sweetheart, pick a fiancé. These are all good families, good looks, good character. We’ve vetted everything. Any one of them is a thousand times better than some bleach-blond punk.”

I was completely dumbfounded. I flipped through the stack and looked up at them.

“Dad, Mom, have you lost your minds? I’m a sophomore. You’re setting up an arranged marriage?”

My hand slipped to my wallet. I pulled out the photo tucked inside—Lucas’s school ID picture that I’d sneakily taken during last semester’s field day.

In the photo, he had a lollipop dangling from his mouth, looking like he couldn’t care less about anything. I’d stared at that picture so many times I’d memorized every pixel.

Every time I looked at it, I fell all over again.

While they weren’t watching, I slid Lucas’s photo into the pile of perfect boys.

Then I pretended to study the stack carefully, pulled his photo out with feigned shyness, and held it up.

“Dad, Mom. This is the one.”

I could already picture it. Engaged to Lucas by sophomore year!

This was the best day ever!

My parents looked down. The bleached-blond hair grinned back at them, practically glowing under the lamp.

Their faces went pale. Dad nearly vaulted out of his chair, jabbing his finger at the photo.

“No! Absolutely not!”

Mom snatched the picture and tossed it aside, her voice frantic.

“Chloe, you’re not thinking straight! This Lucas kid is a deadbeat. He does nothing, lies through his teeth, and he’s the one who went around telling everyone you were obsessed with him. How could someone like that be your fiancé?”

Something inside me snapped. I slammed the stack of photos down on the desk.

“Why not? Didn’t you two have an arranged marriage too?”

“And after you got married, Dad chased Angela and Mom chased Ethan. You both went after whoever you wanted. So what gives you the right to stop me?”

Dad’s face went crimson.

“That’s different! We were—”

“Different how?”

I cut him off, my voice climbing louder and louder.

“You say I’m too young and I don’t understand anything. But you were barely in your twenties when you got married! If you could throw yourselves at whoever you wanted and not care about the consequences, why can’t I?”

Mom furrowed her brow and tried to reason with me.

“Chloe, Lucas doesn’t even like you. Don’t waste your time on him.”

That line lit the fuse. I shot to my feet and made my declaration, loud and clear.

“Well, I love that he doesn’t like me back!”