His mother believed I wasn’t good enough for her son, and to my disbelief, he actually listened to her and called off our wedding. So, for our last dinner together, I decided to give them both a goodbye gift they’d never forget.

Jack had just proposed. It wasn’t anything extravagant. Just the two of us, sitting on my balcony with greasy takeout and far too much wine. Then suddenly, there he was, holding out a ring with trembling hands and a smile so wide I didn’t even think twice.

I said yes before he could finish his sentence.

We dove straight into planning the wedding. Something small, intimate—just how we liked it—with a ramen bar and a cosplay-themed photo booth. It felt perfect for us.

Jack was a freelance web developer. I worked as a graphic designer, creating comics for indie publishers, often losing myself in drawing anime-inspired scenes. Neither of us needed a fancy venue or a large bridal party. We only needed each other.

Or so I thought.

A few weeks into our engagement, Jack told me it was time to meet his mother. Her name was Victoria. He had been avoiding it, but honestly, I hadn’t pushed either.

I’d heard bits and pieces about her—apparently, she was opinionated. She meant well, most of the time, but she could be intense.

One of Jack’s sisters once told me Victoria drove away his last girlfriend by asking her outright what her savings account looked like. Still, I believed in first impressions. I believed in myself. So, I picked out a nice outfit, did my hair, grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir, and drove to her house, trying to stay positive.

Victoria’s house was in a pristine, suburban neighborhood. Large colonial-style house with manicured lawns that looked like they’d been cut with scissors.

I parked behind Jack’s car, smoothed out my clothes, and walked up to the front door, repeating to myself, It’s just dinner. You got this.

Victoria greeted me with a smile so big, I almost thought she’d been waiting to prove the rumors wrong. She complimented me right away.

“Oh, Emily! You’re even more lovely than the photos.” She even touched my hair—actually touched it—and said, “So shiny! What do you use?”

“Uh, dandruff shampoo?” I said, confused. She laughed, like I’d said something clever, and then ushered me inside her home. At that point, I started to think maybe everyone had misjudged her.

Dinner was lasagna—no frozen stuff, all made from scratch. It was delicious. She even poured the wine I’d brought without hesitation, and then asked me about my work.

I told her about a comic convention I had attended recently. I’d dressed up as my favorite manga character, and a guy had followed me around shouting something about Sailor Moon.

It took me a while to explain the difference between manga and anime, but surprisingly, Victoria laughed and seemed genuinely interested.

By the time dessert came around, I’d started to relax. That’s when things took a turn.

After we finished eating, Victoria turned to Jack and said sweetly, “Darling, could you help me with something quickly in the bedroom?”

I blinked. “You need help moving something?”

“Oh no,” she waved dismissively. “Just a small thing. Won’t take a minute.”

I nodded, still not thinking much of it. After they disappeared into the bedroom, I began clearing the table and washing the dishes. I hummed to myself, completely oblivious.

Ten minutes later, Jack emerged from the bedroom looking like he’d seen a ghost. His face was pale, his eyes wide.

“Everything okay?” I asked, drying my hands on a dish towel.

He nodded towards the kitchen door, then stepped out onto the back porch. I followed, confused. Once outside, Jack let out a heavy sigh before speaking.

“Emily… my mom thinks this engagement is a mistake.”

I froze. “What? What are you talking about?”

“She said I need someone... different. Someone with more money, someone who can bring more to the table so I don’t have to work as hard.” He looked at the ground, avoiding my gaze. “She says you’re great, but not ‘future material.’ And honestly, I’ve been thinking the same thing. I think…” He paused, then slowly added, “…we should call it off.”

My heart sank. I just stared at him, unable to speak, as I processed the fact that the same man who had proposed to me just a couple of weeks ago was now parroting his mother’s words as though they were gospel.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. I should have walked out right then and there, never looking back. But I had one last move to make.

I smiled.

“If that’s what you want, then fine,” I said softly. “But… can we have one last dinner together? A proper goodbye. At my place. Just us.”

He blinked. “Like, closure?”

“Exactly. Closure.”

He hesitated for a moment, maybe sensing something in my voice, but then he nodded. “Yeah. Sure. That sounds… mature.”

“Okay, I’ll call you in a few days to set it up.”

“Sure,” he said, sounding strangely relieved.

I left that night with a smile on my face, thanking Victoria for dinner. Of course, I did cry a little before crashing, but the next morning, I started putting my plan into action.

I didn’t cry again. I didn’t rage to my friends or throw out the few things Jack had left at my place. Instead, I focused on my goal and called Ryan, a tattoo artist I’d known for years.

Ryan and I met through our shared love of comics and anime. Several of my tattoos were his work. When I told him my plan, he didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Oh, hell yeah. Let’s mess this guy up—emotionally, of course,” he said with enthusiasm.

A week later, Jack showed up for our "farewell dinner," wearing cologne and his best shirt, thinking this was some sort of romantic date.

We had pasta, wine, and soft jazz playing in the background. I even laughed at one of his jokes, and I could tell he thought I was beginning to soften.

After dinner, I told him, “I made chocolate mousse for dessert.”

His eyes lit up. “Seriously? You’re going all out for a goodbye dinner?”

“Of course,” I replied, placing two bowls of mousse on the table, along with a small velvet box next to his plate.

He looked at the box. “What’s this?”

“Just a little gift to remember me by,” I said, sipping my wine casually.

He opened the box to find a card inside that read: A little something to remember me by. Beneath the card was a tattoo voucher.

“A tattoo?” he asked, surprised. “You always talked about getting one, right? A meaningful phrase on your back?”

His expression softened. “That’s… wow, Emily. That’s really… thoughtful of you.”

I smirked. “And you said I wasn’t mature enough.”

He laughed awkwardly. “I guess I was wrong.”

We finished the evening with friendly goodbyes as if we were just parting ways for a little while. But the next day, Jack showed up at Ryan’s shop, giddy with excitement. Ryan later told me he was thrilled to be doing something just for himself for once.

Ryan instructed Jack to lie face down for his tattoo, saying it was going to be something meaningful—but also adding that he couldn’t reveal the design until it was finished.

Hours later, Jack walked out of the shop, beaming with a fresh tattoo on his back, wrapped in plastic. He couldn’t see it properly, but Ryan said he was smiling the entire time.

When Ryan sent me the photo of the tattoo, I posted it on Instagram. I didn’t tag Jack, but it wasn’t long before he noticed.

The tattoo was large and in black cursive, reading: Property of Victoria — Mama’s Boy For Life.

The next morning, my phone was flooded with voicemails and angry texts from both Jack and his mother. I deleted them without listening.

There were hundreds of messages from friends, all finding it hilarious.

But Jack showed up at my door later that afternoon, furious. “You tricked me!” he shouted. “That’s permanent! You’re crazy!”

I opened the door and looked him in the eye. “Nah, I’m just ‘not future material’ or ‘mature,’ remember?”

He froze, standing outside my apartment, clearly angry but also unsure of how to react. I shrugged and shut the door in his face.

Victoria came by once too, but I didn’t even open the door.

Six months later, I heard from a friend that Jack had to move back in with his mother because his freelance work had dried up. He was also undergoing laser treatment to remove the tattoo, though it was still faint after several sessions.

Now, word is, he’s still single and using dating apps. His profile says: Looking for someone who respects family values.

As for me?

I’m happily dating Ryan now. Helping a girl plan her revenge really does spark some chemistry.

He calls me his muse, and I’ve been sketching a lot while he works his magic with the ink.

Victoria was right about one thing. I wasn’t built for the future she envisioned for me.

But I sure as hell designed a better one.