When Jen matches with her high school bully on a dating site, she relives the trauma of her childhood. But still, she goes on the date—as a way of getting revenge for how she was treated. The date ends up being a bust, and Jen doesn’t get what she intended, so she plans a second meeting…
I sat at the bar, pretending to be absorbed in my phone as the door swung open and my date walked in. After meeting on a dating app, Justin and I had decided that it was finally time to meet.
Except that Justin and I had met before—just that he didn’t remember it.
A person using her phone | Source: Unsplash
As he walked in, the familiar jolt of recognition shot through me, but on his face, there was only the casual scan of a man on the lookout for someone who could have been anyone but the girl he once tormented. As he approached, his smile was confident, practiced.
I steeled myself, reminding my racing heart of its role tonight—a new woman, who just wanted revenge.
A smiling man | Source: Unsplash
“Hey, Jen,” he said, sliding into the seat beside me, unaware of the storm he was walking into. “I hope I’m not too late?”
“Not at all,” I replied, my voice steady and sweet. “I was just enjoying the vibe here. This place has changed since the last time I was around.”
People sitting at a bar | Source: Pexels
When we had matched on the app, I was convinced that Justin wouldn’t be able to recognize me. Since high school, I had drastically changed—everything from my hair, my weight, and my sense of style.
I was a new person.
“Yeah, it’s got a good crowd tonight,” Justin nodded, waving over a bartender. “Can I get you a drink now?”
People sitting at a bar | Source: Pexels
I watched him closely—he had barely changed since the last time I saw him. It had been our high school graduation, followed by a party in an open field. Justin had barely glanced at me. He didn’t register that I was someone who had been attracted to him.
Then, not now.
A group of graduates | Source: Pexels
When we matched, I wasn’t interested in Justin—but after I spoke to my sister, we both thought that messing with Justin would be healing in some way.
“Sure, a gin and tonic, thank you,” I said, watching his face for any sign of recognition. There was none. It was clear as he saw me—I was just another date. Just another woman that he had picked up.
A cocktail with strawberries | Source: Pexels
As he chatted about his job and recent travels, I nodded along, my mind racing ahead to the plan unfolding around us. The bar was filling up quickly.
Justin continued to speak, and I began to space out—remembering moments from high school.
Students hanging out together | Source: Pexels
Like the one time when the dull echo of my footsteps in the empty high school corridor seemed louder than usual, reverberating off the lockers with a metallic chill.
I clutched my books tightly to my chest, my eyes downcast, trying to make myself invisible. The memory of Justin’s harsh laughter from earlier that day still stung, a cruel reminder of my daily ordeal.
A close-up of lockers | Source: Pexels
As I turned the corner, I could hear the muffled sounds of other students, their voices light and carefree. I approached the bathroom, a temporary refuge where I could gather myself away from prying eyes and sharp tongues.
I could never eat in the cafeteria. They would all look at me and laugh.
Meals on trays | Source: Unsplash
I remember pushing the bathroom door open, the familiar scent of industrial cleaner mixed with a hint of floral air freshener greeted me. I checked the stalls quickly—empty—and allowed myself a moment to lean against the cool tile wall, exhaling slowly.
The tears came then, quietly at first, then with a shuddering force I couldn’t contain. It wasn’t just the words that Justin had hurled at me—it was the relentless, grinding down of my spirit, day after day.
A bathroom stall | Source: Unsplash
Bringing me back to the present, Justin asked if I wanted to leave the bar after our drink and get something to eat at the many food stalls outside. Younger me would never, but I was different now.
As he asked for the bill, Justin began to hound the waitress.
A couple drinking at the bar | Source: Pexels
“I need you to hurry up,” he told her. “We’ve got places to be and you’re just taking up my time. Could you do your job any slower?”
She blinked back tears and went to get the bill.
“My ex-girlfriend was just like that,” he said, turning to me. “Her eyes would well up whenever I said anything.”
A smiling waitress | Source: Unsplash
The evening ended with me leaving Justin outside the bar, claiming that I had a headache and needed to sleep it off.
I was disappointed that I didn’t get my revenge.
At home, I sat with my laptop in bed and decided to take another shot at having my revenge against Justin. I logged onto Facebook and created an event—adding everyone who had gone to high school with us.
A person using their laptop in bed | Source: Pexels
I planned the reunion, making the bar that I had just left the location for our meeting. When the event was created, many of my ex-classmates indicated that they would be there—there were many shares and by the next morning, the number of people attending had grown.
A laptop opened to Facebook | Source: Pexels
On the day of the reunion, I spent a while getting dressed. This was a big moment. This was for everyone to see that I was the best version of myself—and that I was confident in my own skin.
At the bar, I went straight to the bartender and made sure that the bill would be sent to Justin at the end of the evening, giving his name and number.
A woman doing her make up | Source: Pexels
After a while, Justin came up to me with a big grin on his face.
“You seem different, have we met before?” he asked, slurping his drink.
He didn’t even have the decency to remember me from drinks the previous week.
The irony of his words almost made me laugh, but I kept my composure.
A person holding a glass | Source: Pexels
“I get that a lot,” I deflected. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”
Justin laughed, shrugging as he turned to signal the bartender for another round.
“But you do know me,” I said. “You really haven’t changed, have you, Justin?”
“What do you mean?”
A couple talking | Source: Pexels
“Just that you’ve always had this way of making people feel less,” I pressed on, my resolve hardening with each word. “Like how you talk to the waitress, or how you joked about your ex the other night.”
Justin’s face hardened when he realized who I was—but still, I was merely the girl from the dating app, not the one who had been bullied by him before.
A person holding her phone | Source: Pexels
“What? Oh! Jen!” he said, his face contorting.
“Do you remember Jennifer from high school?” I asked loudly, hoping that people would be listening. “The girl that you tormented. The girl that you made sure knew how different she was from everyone else. That she didn’t fit your cruel standards.”
His face went pale, his eyes widening as realization dawned, connecting the past with the present.
A shocked man | Source: Pexels
“I’m that Jennifer,” I said. “And tonight, I wanted you to see exactly who I have become, despite your best efforts to break me down.”
Justin stood up, his mouth opening and closing, searching for something to say but finding nothing. Around us, the expressions from our classmates ranged from shock to support, their eyes fixed on us.
A surprised woman | Source: Unsplash
“I hope one day you’ll understand the weight of your words, how deeply they can cut,” I said.
Turning on my heel, I left him standing there stupidly, the bill for the drinks being the least of his worries.
Finally, I had done it.
A person holding a receipt | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
I Overheard My Daughter Saying ‘My Mom Has No Life Anyway, She’ll Have No Choice But to Babysit on Valentine’s Day’
As a single mom, I gave up my time, dreams, and everything for my daughter. But my heart broke when I overheard her laughing: “My mom has no life anyway. She’ll have no choice but to babysit on Valentine’s Day.” That’s when I decided — if she thought I had no life, I was about to show her otherwise.
Do I not deserve to have a life because I’m 45, a single mom, and a grandmother?
I never thought I’d be one this young. I had Miranda when I was 26. I worked hard and raised her right. But when she got pregnant at 18 and her boyfriend vanished into thin air, I stepped up. What else was I supposed to do? Let my daughter sink?
A distressed senior woman | Source: Midjourney
I still remember the night she told me she was pregnant. I held her as she sobbed into my shoulder. “I’m so scared, Mom,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll figure it out together,” I promised, stroking her hair. “You’re not alone.”
And I meant every word.
I worked late shifts so she could attend college. Gave up my weekends so she could still feel like a normal teenager, going out with her friends. I told myself, “She’s young. She deserves a little freedom. I’ll help until she gets on her feet.”
A senior woman with a baby | Source: Midjourney
But then I overheard something that shattered me… something that made me realize my daughter had mistaken my love for obligation. The words that broke me… God, I hope no mother ever hears them.
It was the Monday before Valentine’s Day. I had just gotten home from work, exhausted, my feet throbbing and my back screaming. I was about to head to my room when I heard Miranda’s voice drifting down the hall.
I wasn’t eavesdropping until I heard my own name.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she giggled into the phone. “My mom has no life anyway. She’ll have no choice but to babysit on Valentine’s Day.”
I stopped dead in my tracks.
A young woman laughing while talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
She kept going.
“She told me some dumb story about having a date with her coworker, but come on… her priority is MY DAUGHTER. She won’t actually go. I’ll just make her cancel, like always.”
Then she LAUGHED. Like my canceled plans, my sacrifices, and my entire damn existence was just some JOKE to her.
I pressed my hand against the wall to steady myself, memories flooding back. The promotion I turned down because it would mean less flexibility for babysitting. The countless nights I’d spent rocking Kelly to sleep while Miranda was out “studying.” The dating profiles I’d deleted because I never had time to actually meet anyone.
Something inside me snapped. She needed to learn that being a mother didn’t mean she got a free pass to dump her responsibilities on me. If she thought I’d just keep picking up the slack forever, she had another thing coming.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
That night, she waltzed into my room, all sugar and innocence.
“Mom, I know you had that date, but I have this really special night planned for Valentine’s Day with my boyfriend, Matt. You’ll babysit, right?”
She batted her lashes. Smiled. Like I was some unpaid employee she could charm into another shift.
My hands trembled as I folded laundry, thinking of David from accounting. He’d been so genuine when he asked me out, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Everyone deserves a second chance at happiness,” he said.
I smiled right back at Miranda. “Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you.”
She beamed. Hugged me. Told me I was “the best.”
She had no idea what was coming.
A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
Valentine’s Day arrived, and Miranda practically skipped out the door. She was glowing, her little red dress hugging her figure, and her hair straightened to perfection. She barely glanced at me as she grabbed her purse.
“Kelly’s already asleep,” she said breezily. “Should be an easy night. Love you, Mom!”
She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t check if I was okay. Because in her mind I was exactly where she expected me to be — home, in my pajamas, and babysitting her child like always.
I looked at myself in the mirror, touching the slight wrinkles around my eyes. When had I started looking so tired? And resigned? The woman staring back at me wasn’t just a grandmother or a mother… she was someone who deserved more.
A heartbroken woman holding a mirror | Source: Midjourney
Thirty minutes later, I walked into the dimly lit restaurant with Kelly on my hip.
Miranda had been gushing about this fancy new restaurant all week, dropping the name like it was some exclusive VIP event. She never imagined I’d actually show up.
The hostess barely had time to greet me before I spotted them — Miranda, all dolled up, and across from her, some twenty-something guy with styled hair and a crisp button-down.
I marched straight up to their table. Miranda’s eyes widened.
“Mom?! What are you —”
I set Kelly in her lap.
A startled woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“At first, I was going to babysit,” I said sweetly. “But then I thought… what better way to test your relationship than to see how Matt handles real life? After all, if he’s serious about dating a single mom, he should be okay spending the night with both of you.”
Miranda’s face turned beet red.
Matt blinked. “Uh… what?”
I turned to him with a sympathetic smile.
“Oh, she didn’t tell you she has a baby? That’s odd. Considering she told me she’d make me cancel my plans for her hot date.”
Dead silence.
Kelly let out a tiny coo, oblivious to the chaos she had just been dropped into.
A stunned young man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I patted Miranda’s shoulder. “Enjoy your night, sweetheart. Don’t wait up.”
And with that, I walked out, my heart pounding but my head held high.
When I got home, I barely had time to kick off my shoes before the front door slammed.
“MOM!” Miranda’s voice was shrill. “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!”
I turned slowly, crossing my arms. “You mean YOU ruined everything.”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“You heard me,” she whispered.
“Oh, I heard EVERY WORD you uttered, Miranda.”
An angry senior woman pointing her finger at someone | Source: Midjourney
She looked away, her cheeks burning. “Mom, I didn’t mean it like that —”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, you meant exactly what you said. And tonight, you got to experience what happens when you assume I’ll ALWAYS be there.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line.”You don’t understand —”
“No, YOU don’t understand. Do you know how many nights I’ve sat alone in this house, wondering where my life went? How many times I’ve cried myself to sleep because I feel invisible? I have a life, Miranda. I deserve happiness too. And you? You don’t get to treat me like a built-in babysitter just because you had a baby young.”
A guilty woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
Tears welled in her eyes, but she stayed quiet.
“Go to bed,” I muttered. “You need to start thinking about how you’ll do better.”
She swallowed hard. “Mom, I —”
“Not tonight, Miranda.”
And for the first time in years, I put myself first. The next morning, I sat at the kitchen table, sipping my coffee. Miranda shuffled in, her eyes puffy. She didn’t speak as she poured herself a cup.
A woman drinking a cup of coffee | Source: Midjourney
I let the silence stretch before I finally said, “There are going to be some changes.”
She stilled.
“Your daughter is YOUR responsibility. I will help… but I will not be manipulated into canceling my life for you.”
She nodded slowly.
“I am NOT your automatic babysitter. If you need me, you ASK… not assume.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
“And if you ever talk about me like that again,” I said, voice low, “you’ll be on your own.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I get it.”
“I really hope you do.”
Portrait of a sad woman | Source: Midjourney
She sniffled. “I… I’m sorry, Mom. I never meant to make you feel… invisible.” She wiped her eyes. “When Dad left us, you were so strong. You never broke. You were always there. I guess… I started taking that strength for granted.”
I softened. “I know. But sorry isn’t enough. You need to show me.”
She gave a small nod. And for the first time, I saw it. The realization. The shift. She finally understood.
For years, I let myself be used because I thought that’s what a GOOD mother did. But you know what? A good mother teaches her child that respect goes both ways.And a great mother knows when to let her child learn the hard way.
You don’t mess with your mother just because she’s your mother. A mother isn’t just an endless well of sacrifices. She’s a person too. And I’ll be damned if I ever let my daughter forget it again.
A stern-looking woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney
A week later, I watched from my kitchen window as Miranda struggled to load Kelly’s stroller into her car. In the past, I would have rushed out immediately, taken the baby, and solved everything.
Instead, I stirred my coffee and stayed where I was.
“Mom?” Her voice drifted through the open window, a hint of desperation creeping in. “Could you…maybe…”
I waited.
She took a deep breath. “Would you please help me? I have a job interview, and Kelly’s being impossible, and I know it’s last minute, but —”
I considered her request carefully, thinking about my own plans for the day. The boundaries I’d set weren’t just for show, they were for both of us.
A baby in a stroller | Source: Pexels
“What time is your interview?” I asked.
“Eleven. It would only be for two hours, maximum.”
“I can watch her from eleven to one,” I said finally. “But I have plans at two, so you’ll need to be back.”
The relief on her face was instant. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I mean it.”
Later that afternoon, I was getting ready for my date with David when Miranda came home. She lingered in my doorway, watching me apply lipstick.
“How did the interview go?” I asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
“I think… I think I got it.” She ran a hand through her hair, the exhaustion evident. “It’s at that accounting firm downtown. The one with the onsite daycare.”
An overwhelmed woman | Source: Midjourney
I nodded, carefully blotting my lips. “Smart thinking.”
“I’ve been looking into backup daycare options too,” she added quickly, like she was trying to prove something. “And I made a schedule for Kelly’s routine. So… so you don’t have to always be the backup plan.”
The old me would have jumped in with offers to help and reassurances that I’d always be there. Instead, I simply said, “That’s good planning, Miranda.”
She shifted uncomfortably in the silence that followed. “You look nice,” she finally said. “Are you seeing David again?”
“Yes.”
“Is it… is it serious?”
I turned to face her. “Would it matter if it was?”
An annoyed woman staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
She flinched slightly, and I saw the struggle in her eyes and the desire to fall back into old patterns and to make me feel guilty for having a life outside of her and Kelly.
“I —” she started, then stopped. Swallowed. Started again. “I’m trying to be happy for you, Mom. I really am. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“It’s scary. Knowing I can’t always count on you being here.”
“You can count on me being your mother,” I said firmly. “But not on me giving up my life. There’s a difference.”
She nodded slowly, tears gathering in her eyes.
An upset young woman | Source: Midjourney
The restaurant was busy when I arrived, but David had already gotten us a table. As I sat down across from him, I noticed a couple at the next table over — a young mother with a baby, trying desperately to have a conversation with her date while juggling a fussy infant.
The scene was painfully familiar.
“Everything okay?” David asked, noticing my distraction.
I smiled, turning back to him. “Just thinking about how life changes. How we change.”
“Good changes?”
I thought about Miranda, about how she was finally facing the reality of being a young single mother instead of pushing everything onto me. And about how sometimes she still slipped into expecting me to drop everything for her, and how I was learning to stay firm even when it hurt.
A senior man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Necessary changes,” I answered. “The kind that hurt at first but make you stronger.”
He reached across the table, taking my hand. “You know what I admire about you? Your courage to start over. To demand respect. Not everyone can do that.”
I squeezed his hand, thinking about all the women out there — mothers, grandmothers, and caregivers — who had lost themselves in the act of loving others.
“Sometimes,” I said softly, “the bravest thing we can do is remember who we are. Not just who we are to other people, but who we are to ourselves.”
A heartbroken but confident woman | Source: Midjourney
Life isn’t a fairy tale. Because here’s the truth about mothers and daughters: we’re always growing, always learning, and always finding new ways to love each other. Sometimes that love looks like holding on. Sometimes it looks like letting go.
And sometimes, it looks like standing in your own truth and saying: “I am more than what you need me to be. I am a woman with dreams, desires, and a life of my own.”
And that doesn’t make me less of a mother. It makes me more of myself.
And in the end, that’s the greatest gift I could give to my daughter — showing her that a woman’s worth isn’t measured by how much she sacrifices. It’s measured by how truly she lives.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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