My Boyfriend Visited His Parents Every Saturday Alone — One Day, I Found Out Why

Every Saturday, My Boyfriend Visited His Parents Without Me Until I Followed Him and Uncovered the Shocking Truth – Story of the Day

Steven went to “visit his parents” every Saturday, but something wasn’t right. I chose to follow him because his weak justifications, a new clothing, and a jewelry receipt had my head racing.

I started to doubt everything I believed to be true about the man I loved after learning what I did.

It used to feel like pure happiness to live with Steven. Prior to it, we had been inseparable for two years. We were the type of couple that made people scoff.

Steven was perceptive, clever, and, yes, as obstinate as a mule when it came to owning up to his mistakes.

Once, though, that tenacity had looked endearing. It seemed like a wall separating us at the moment.

My dancing studio served as both my haven and my source of delight and pride. Every lengthy day was made worthwhile by witnessing pupils gain self-assurance and grace in their movements.

I frequently hoped Steven could come to class with me, even for just one class. But he had a reason for everything.

He used to joke that he was uncoordinated. “You don’t want me to frighten away your customers.”

But something had changed recently.

He vanished every Saturday, saying he was going to see his folks. I didn’t mind at first. Everyone needs family time, don’t they? However, after months of his contempt, the uneasiness started to seep in whenever I proposed going with him.

The shirt followed.

It was soft, fashionable, and quite different from his typical selections, so I hadn’t seen one before.

“Is this something new?” While folding the rest of the laundry, I had asked in a casual manner.

He answered, “Oh, yeah,” without raising his eyes from his laptop. “I got it when it was on sale.”

Steven despises going shopping!

That time, I didn’t mind. I discovered the receipt a few days later.

I wasn’t spying. It was nearly waving at me as it protruded from the rubbish. A jewelry shop. A beat skipped in my chest. Purchasing jewelry had not been addressed by Steven. Furthermore, he had not recently given me any gifts.

That night, I tried to seem casual when I said, “Hey, Steven.” “These days, you’ve been behaving… busy. Is everything alright?

“Very busy?” Without even looking up from his phone, he laughed. “Work has been busy, I suppose, but nothing extraordinary. Why?

“No cause.” I leaned back against the cushions and feigned a smile. But my thoughts were racing.

For whom was that jewelry intended?

It got intolerable to have Saturday mornings. It was like slow torture to watch him grab his keys and lace up his shoes.

Before leaving, he gave me a short peck on the cheek and said, “See you later.”

I lay awake that night, my mind racing. I had made up my mind by the time the light of dawn peeked through the curtains. I’m going to discover exactly what Steven is concealing on Saturday of next week.

When Saturday morning finally came, I assumed my secret detective persona.

I sipped coffee and buttered my toast casually over breakfast, saying in a lighthearted manner, “I’ll be out for most of the morning because I have a class to teach today.”

With a smile, Steven put on his jacket. “All right. Then, I’ll see you later.

“Enjoy your time with your parents,” I said in a calm tone.

As soon as the door behind him clicked shut, I acted. With my heart racing, I snatched up my keys, sunglasses, and scarf and threw on a jacket that I thought shouted “inconspicuous.” I climbed into my vehicle.

In an attempt to relax, I whispered, “Detective Clara reporting for duty.”

It was easy to find Steven’s automobile. I cautiously followed, attempting to prevent my hands from shaking while operating the steering wheel. My stomach fell when he abruptly turned off in the direction of the business district.

Why would he be in this place?

I followed him to a little café with windows lined with vibrant flower pots. As I watched him get out of the automobile, I gasped.

Then I noticed her, a blonde.

She had the appearance of someone who had just stepped off a runway; she was tall, graceful, and well-groomed.

They entered after Steven grinned as he walked up to her. They laughed and chatted like old friends, and they appeared so at ease together.

Who is she?

There was something very familiar about her features, but I couldn’t place it. My heart pounded. That being said, I wasn’t going to let it stop there. I had to go with them.

My knuckles clenched around the driving wheel as I trailed safely behind Steven and the blonde as they got into his car. I hardly recognized the streets as we drove into the business district.

Where are they heading?

Nothing about that excursion shouted “family visit,” even though Steven had always claimed that his Saturdays were spent with family.

The sign on the window glistened in the sunlight as he pulled into a slick parking lot and came to a stop: a dance studio.

A studio for dancing? Could this be a joke? Is this the same Steven who says he would sooner sprain his ankle than learn to dance?

I parked a few spots away and cautiously but swiftly got out of my car. Although I wasn’t sure if anyone would know me here, I had my sunglasses on my nose and my scarf pulled tight.

I entered the studio with the doors partly open, hugging the wall and peeking around the corner. With his hand securely gripping hers, Steven stood in the middle of the room.

Even though he was dancing, his steps were awkward and far from elegant. My chest constricted with each second as I gazed at them.

He claimed to despise dancing! He told me he would never do it since it wasn’t his thing. And this now?

I turned to look at her. Her movements were too familiar. The way her head turned, how carefully she walked… In a flash, it clicked.

She is someone I know! Daisy!

Daisy wasn’t just any old lady. She was a pupil of mine. The one who said she couldn’t continue for “personal reasons” and quit a few months ago.

She is now dancing with my boyfriend in addition to stealing choreography.

You must be joking with me!

This was a slap in the face, not simply a betrayal. My studio was very important to me, and Steven, of all people, understood that. Anger was rising inside me, furious and scorching. I was not going anywhere in silence.

I picked up my phone without thinking and dialed one of my fellow teachers, Jason.

Can you make it to the studio, Jason? I’ll send the address by text. I growled at the telephone.

“What’s wrong?” he said in a worried tone.

“I’ll elaborate later. Now I need you here. Also, take my concert attire out of the locker. If you hurry, I’ll give you twice as much.

Jason must have realized how urgent it was since he entered through the back door with a bag of clothes fifteen minutes later. I changed into my finest attire, a glistening, striking ensemble that virtually begged for attention.

“Are we… acting in this way?” Jason inquired, obviously perplexed but eager to follow my instructions.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” I firmly stated.

I strode into the studio with Jason following me, head held high and every stride purposeful.

Steven’s face turned pale as he froze in the middle of a step. The blond’s smile vanished, to be replaced with a strained, uneasy look.

“Clara?” Steven took a tentative step in my direction and stammered.

I didn’t respond to him. Rather, I gave Jason a signal, and we passionately danced.

What came next was nothing short of spectacular. There was a purpose behind each stride, pivot, and dramatic halt. With our precise, smooth, and unavoidable motions, Jason and I performed as though the entire world was watching.

Everyone’s eyes were on us when the song ended. I spoke in a cold, scathing tone to Daisy first.

“My studio is no longer open to you. You’ve taken enough! My guy and my choreography.

I then turned to see Steven standing there, seemingly unsure of whether to run or apologize. I had a glare that could cut through steel.

I responded icily, “Dance until your feet fall off for all I care.” “Don’t do it with me, please.”

I pivoted and ran out of the studio without waiting for a reply. Steven was calling after me, and I could hear it: “Honey! Hurry up! For us, I did it!

He spoke in a frenzy, but I continued.

I packed Steven’s belongings and put them neatly by the door that day, along with changing the locks on the property. The time has come for him to waltz somewhere else.

I entered my studio early the following morning. I was welcomed by the familiar smell of lavender cleaner, but it didn’t do much to quiet the raging inside. I was prepared to lose myself in my job and ignore any thoughts of Steven.

Telling myself, “This is my space,” “My sanctuary.”

However, I froze when I rounded the bend.

Steven held a huge bouquet of roses as he stood in the center of the studio. He was dressed nicely in the same shirt and brand-new pants.

I dropped my bag off my shoulder.

“Why are you in this place?”

He looked at me after placing the bouquet on the bench. Steven carefully extended his hand as someone switched on the music.

I stood motionless for a second, not knowing whether to scream at him or give in to my inner curiosity. Steven took a step toward me and met my gaze. Then he began to dance like if everything had stopped.

His motions flowed precisely, with purpose and fluidity. Since I had taught the routine numerous times, I recognized it right away.

What’s going on?

He paused a few paces away, his hand still outstretched. I took his hand as my body moved before my thoughts could follow.

We danced while the music whirled. His body was sturdy and steady, and his steps were exactly like mine. I had always wanted to share the dance with him.

Steven got down on one knee and took a tiny velvet box out of his pocket as the music faded.

“This is what I did for you. I wanted this to be the ideal time. Clara, you are loved. Will you wed me?

I nodded and muttered, “Yes,” tears in my eyes.

And then there was a burst of applause. The entrance to the studio sprang open as I turned around. My parents, friends, and even Steven’s parents erupted in cheers and laughter.

My best buddy Mia exclaimed, “Surprise!” while clutching a bottle of champagne.

Steven put an arm around me and laughed. “Everyone knew about it.”

While Steven’s mother wiped her eyes with a tissue, my mother gave me a hug while crying.

Steven leaned down later. “I made reservations for us all at the restaurant down the street. Tonight, let’s have a proper celebration.

With lots of toasts, laughing, and tears of joy, the evening was truly magical. I knew it was the happiest day of my life as Steven held my hand.

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