Every Saturday, my boyfriend, Tom, left to “visit his parents,” but strange clues made me suspicious. Following him uncovered a truth that deepened our love. Tom and I were a perfect pair for two years, sharing silly moments and deep talks. His wit and stubborn streak were part of his charm, but lately, he seemed distant. My dance studio, where I teach kids to move with joy, was my passion, but Tom always laughed off my invites, saying, “I’d trip and scare your students.” His weekly absences started to sting, especially when he brushed off my suggestions to join him.
One day, I noticed a sharp blazer, not his style. “New?” I asked. “Old sale find,” he said, too casually. Then a jewelry receipt in his coat pocket sparked worry—no gift had come my way. “You okay?” I asked one night. “Just busy,” he said, eyes glued to his screen. My heart raced with doubt. The next Saturday, I said, “I’m teaching a class,” hiding my plan to follow him. As he left, I slipped on a cap and trailed his car, nerves jangling. Instead of his parents’, he went to a cozy café, meeting a glamorous woman—Ella, a former student of mine.
They drove to a dance studio, and I peeked in, shocked to see Tom, who swore he hated dancing, stepping with her. Hurt, I called my friend Ryan, a dance teacher. “Bring my performance dress,” I said. In a glittering outfit, I stormed in with Ryan, dancing a bold routine. Tom paled, stuttering my name. I told Ella, “You’re done with my studio.” To Tom, I said, “Dance with her, not me.” I left, changed our locks, and packed his things. The next day, Tom stood in my studio with roses, dancing my routine flawlessly. He knelt, holding a ring. “I learned for you,” he said. “Marry me?”
Tears fell as I said yes. Our loved ones burst in, cheering. “It was all for you,” Tom whispered. At a lively dinner, surrounded by family, I saw his secret was a grand gesture of love. Following him tested my trust, but his proposal showed his heart, making our bond stronger than ever.
