I Brought Home a Fake Boyfriend to Uncover Why Men Vanished After Meeting My Daughters
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After dinner, I confront Daniel about what he saw.
I closed the door behind me, the clatter of dishes fading as I turned to Daniel. His brow was furrowed, and I could sense the weight of what he'd witnessed. “So, what did you think?” I asked, my heart thumping in my chest.
“It was fine,” he replied, but the hesitation in his voice suggested otherwise. “The girls… they seemed to share a look. Like a secret.”
The words wrapped around me like a chill. “A secret? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, just… when you went to get dessert, it felt like they were communicating without speaking. It made me uneasy.”
Unease coiled in my gut. Did they know something? Had they somehow discerned the reason behind the vanishing men? “What kind of secret?”
He shrugged, glancing away. “I wish I could tell you. But it was one of those moments, you know?”
I sighed, frustration welling up. My daughters were too young for secrets like this. “They’re just kids,” I muttered. But were they? What if this wasn’t just about me? What if they had some understanding of the disappearances that I hadn’t grasped? I felt my resolve harden. I had to dig deeper.
Determined to uncover the truth, I decide to ask my daughters about their past interactions with the men.
After putting Daniel in the living room with a movie, I sought out my daughters. They were in their rooms, quiet and conspiratorial, huddled together like they were planning an escape.
They exchanged glances, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. “He was nice,” my oldest finally said, her voice steady. But her eyes darted away from mine.
“Nice isn't enough, though. I want to know what you think about him meeting you both. Did anything feel… off?”
“Not really,” my youngest shrugged, but the smile felt forced. She shifted in her seat, glancing towards the door.
“Come on. I need you both to be honest with me,” I pressed, desperation creeping into my tone. “Have you ever talked about the other men? Any of them?”
They hesitated, exchanging another glance that felt like a wall between us. “No, Mom. Can we talk about something else?”
Frustration boiled over. “I’m just trying to protect you. What do you know?” I snapped, the words echoing in the silence. My youngest’s expression wavered, and for a fleeting moment, I saw fear.
“It’s not like that,” she whispered, but her voice fell flat. I leaned closer, locking eyes with her. “Tell me!”
Then, in an unexpected burst of fervor, my youngest grabbed my hand, her grip tight and urgent. “Mom, we need to leave now!”
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