I Gifted My Boyfriend To Her

On Christmas Day, my boyfriend agreed to take me to see the giant Christmas tree downtown at the Plaza.

But before I could even find my angle, Luke was already aggressively clicking the shutter. He tossed the camera back to me, his impatience radiating off him.

I scrolled through the photos in disbelief. Not a single one was usable. They were all blurry, off-center, or caught me mid-blink.

Luke let out a dry, mocking laugh.

"You know what they say about photography, right? Its all about the model, the model, and the model."

"Take a look in the mirror, Tara. You're not some fresh-faced college girl anymore."

"Honestly, get over it. Dragging me out here just to post on Instagram. Its exhausting."

And yet, when it came to his female manager, he had taken the exact same photos at the exact same spot.

Those shots were masterfully framed, beautifully lit, and perfectly angled.

Cheryl had posted them in a massive photo dump on Instagram.

And Luke was the very first to like and comment on every single post.

Later, Cheryl sent me a direct message:

Hey Tara, your performance at work might be lacking, but I have to say, your man is incredibly useful.

I took a deep breath and typed back:

If you like him that much, he's yours.

She probably thought I was joking.

But I was entirely serious.

It was 1:30 AM.

My boyfriend lay with his back to me, the blanket pulled over his shoulders, furiously typing on his phone.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, my eyes wide open in the dark. He remained completely oblivious.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"Luke, who are you texting at this hour?"

He flinched, his voice laced with a sudden, poorly concealed guilt. "Just working things out with my manager."

A cold laugh bubbled up in my chest. I rolled over, turning my back to him. "Then go text in the living room. The glare of your screen is keeping me awake."

"Oh, come on. Stop being so dramatic."

The harsh clatter of his phone hitting the nightstand spoke volumes of his irritation.

There was a time when my work-induced anxiety caused me severe insomnia. Back then, Luke had personally installed the highest-quality blackout curtains and soundproofing foam in our bedroom.

Now, my sleeplessness was just me being "dramatic" and high-maintenance.

"Look, are you seriously still throwing a tantrum over those photos? Let it go."

I didn't bother replying.

He opened the nightstand drawer, pulled out a small jewelry box, and tossed a cheap necklace onto my side of the bed.

"Can we just stick to gifts and dinner for holidays from now on? Honestly, dragging me around to take photos is exhausting. I can't handle it."

I didn't even open the box. I threw it right back at him.

"What is your problem?" He sat up straight, his tone sharp with frustration.

I replied, my voice completely flat. "Im allergic to cheap alloy, Luke. Did you forget?"

From college to our professional lives, Luke's jewelry gifts to me had always ranged from ten to thirty dollars. I never wanted to hurt his pride, so I always wore them anyway. Without fail, they would trigger painful rashes and hives.

"Fine, whatever. Just don't say I didn't get you a Christmas present."

With a dismissive sweep of his hand, he knocked the necklace into the trash can.

I felt a bitter smile pull at my lips.

Earlier that day, I had glimpsed two receipt notifications on his phone. One was for $29.99. The other was for $8,999.

And that $8,999 designer necklace was currently sitting around Cheryls neck in her latest Instagram post.

Seeing that photo had frozen the remaining warmth in my blood.

A moment later, his phone buzzed.

He checked the screen, typed a quick reply, and immediately threw off the covers to get dressed.

"Cheryls water heater just broke down in the middle of her shower. She's stranded over there. I'm going to run over and take a look."

When I didn't say anything, he added defensively, "Don't start overthinking things, alright?"

As the front door clicked shut, I sat in the darkness, feeling strangely detached.

When, exactly, had Luke and Cheryl become so close?

Was it when I took sick leave and Luke drove her to the office instead?

Was it when I went on a business trip and Cheryl slept over at our place because her apartment had a power outage?

Or was it even earlier, during the annual office gala, when Cheryl did a flashy dance, twisted her ankle, and fell right into Luke's arms?

I couldn't pinpoint the moment.

I only remembered when Cheryl first joined the company. She was quiet, dressed in dated, ill-fitting clothes, and was nearly a decade older than the rest of us. Nobody in the department wanted to talk to her.

I had felt sorry for her. I took her under my wing, inviting her into our conversations, discussing skincare, and taking her to trendy new lunch spots.

I even invited her to our private dinners.

When I learned she lived nearby, I offered to let her carpool with us to work.

At first, Luke had complained about the arrangement. But later... when did he start looking forward to it?

By sunrise, Luke still hadn't returned.

A single text message from him sat on my lock screen:

It's pouring outside. Make sure you leave early.

Morning rush hour in the rain was always a nightmarecabs were impossible to catch, and the traffic was gridlocked.

To make things sweeter, Cheryl had just posted a new update on her social media:

Nothing beats the feeling of having a personal chauffeur on a rainy morning...

By the time I slid into the office right on the dot, my pant legs and shoes were completely soaked.

Meanwhile, Cheryl was elegantly holding a cup of artisanal coffee, her hair and makeup flawless, leaning casually against the back of Luke's office chair.

There was no trace of the awkward, frumpy woman who had joined the firm a year ago.

As I walked past her desk, she pulled her feet back with a look of mild disgust, as if worried the rainwater dripping from my hem would ruin her Italian leather ankle boots.

"It's pouring. Couldn't you have just ordered an Uber?" Luke asked, his tone irritated. It was as if my bedraggled appearance was an embarrassment to him.

Yet, years ago, when a taxi driver had harassed me late at night, Luke had taken out a heavy car loan just so he could drive me himself. He had sworn back then that he would never let me be stranded in the rain again.

I kept my expression blank, ignoring the tissue he held out to me.

As I wiped down my damp phone screen, a new notification popped up.

I was staring at my phone when Cheryl tapped hard on my desk.

"I need the campaign proposal on my desk before lunch," she said.

Having been promoted to department manager just a month ago, she had already mastered the art of talking down to people.

I caught the sympathetic glance of a coworker nearby and managed a tight, weary smile. I locked my phone and immediately set to work.

When lunch break ended, Luke and Cheryl stepped out of the elevator together.

Passing my cubicle, Luke set down a bag of warm, roasted chestnuts.

"Eat some of these to tide you over. Ill take you somewhere nice for dinner tonight."

I didn't look up, offering only a vague murmur in response.

After double-checking the proposal, I printed the pages and walked toward the managers office.

As I reached the door, Cheryl's giggles drifted through the thin wood.

"Oh my god, Luke! Just because I said I liked them doesn't mean you have to buy me a million bags. You're ridiculous."

"Hey, stop feeding me like that. You got crumbs all over my chest, you idiot!"

I stood frozen, a wave of nausea washing over me at the mental image.

Taking a deep, stabilizing breath, I knocked and pushed the door open.

The moment I did, a ceramic mug came flying straight at me.

I didn't react fast enough. The mug slammed hard against my hand, and scalding water splashed over the back of my wrist.

Cheryl shrieked, "Do you even know how to knock? Where are your office manners!"

Lukes hand, which had been lingering near her collarbone, snapped back as if hed been electrocuted. Panic flashed in his eyes.

I clutched my hand, ignoring the searing pain as red blisters began to form, and placed the proposal on the desk.

This was the eighth draft. Cheryl had rejected every single one for arbitrary reasons, and this time, she didn't even bother to flip through the pages.

"Do it over."

She swept the entire document off the desk. It landed near my feet, the pages absorbing the puddle of spilled tea.

A quiet, cold anger flared inside me.

"Cheryl, if you could tell me exactly what needs adjusting, I can edit it right here."

"Is that your attitude toward your work?" Cheryl slammed her palm onto the desk, her eyes blazing. "Look at this garbage. Where is the innovation? Where is the professionalism? If we send this to the client, well lose the entire account!"

I almost wanted to laugh.

I was the one who had trained Cheryl from the ground up when she first arrived. Now, she was lecturing me on professionalism.

"You know what? Forget it. You're off this account. I'll reassign it to someone else."

Cheryl leaned back, admiring her freshly manicured nails.

With a single, dismissive sentence, she had thrown away two months of my sleepless nights and hard work.

When I stepped out of her office, Luke immediately dragged me into the breakroom.

The guilt and worry in his eyes were painfully obvious.

"Let me see your hand..."

"Don't touch me," I said, recoiling from him. "Your hands are dirty."

The naked disgust in my voice made his face stiffen.

"Tara, can you stop being so childish? This is a corporate office, not some fairy-tale ivory tower."

"I know you're bitter. You think I play dirty, and you think Cheryl doesn't deserve this promotion."

"But the decision has been made. You lost, Tara. You need to accept that."

The scene was painfully familiar.

Just a month ago, we had stood in this exact breakroom, having the same argument.

That was the day I missed the promotion.

I had confronted him about why he had secretly swapped my almond milk for whole milk that morning. He knew I was severely lactose intolerant. The resulting stomach spasms had sent me straight to the ER, forcing me to miss my presentation.

Everyone in the department had assumed the promotion was mine. The interview was supposed to be a mere formality.

But when I was discharged from the hospital, Cheryl's name was already on the announcement board.

When I had demanded answers, Cheryl had looked at me with crocodile tears.

"I'm so sorry, Tara. I didn't mean to. I just thought... it would be such a waste if the proposal you worked on for months didn't get presented..."

I had nearly lost my mind with rage.

"So that gave you the right to steal my pitch and present it as your own? Cheryl, I treated you like a sister, and you stabbed me in the back. How can you be so utterly shameless!"

Looking at her feigned tears, my heart had turned to stone. It was the classic fable of the snake and the savior.

But Luke had insisted I was the one being unreasonable.

"Tara, I told you before, there's no point in being so career-driven. Even if you become manager, what's the point? Once we get married and have kids, you're going to quit and stay home anyway."

"Cheryl is in her late thirties, and she's had a brutal time building a life here from scratch. You grew up in a small town too, you should understand how hard it is."

"Aren't you two supposed to be best friends? What's wrong with letting her have this one victory?"

We had screamed at each other until we were blue in the face.

But looking at him now, I realized how pointless it all was.

"You're right," I said quietly. "I was being childish."

"Don't worry. I won't fight you two anymore."

My sudden compliance made Luke let out a breath of relief. He reached out again to inspect my burned hand, but his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it, turned on his heel, and walked straight back into Cheryl's office.

I pulled out my phone and quickly drafted a reply to the message I had received earlier that morning.

Hey Ian, I'm ready. I can start right after New Year's.

I walked back to my desk and threw the bag of roasted chestnuts directly into the trash.

My screen lit up with a reply from Ian:

It's an honor, Tara. I can't wait to have my favorite partner back.

That night, I sat on the couch drafting my resignation letter on my phone.

The Word document interface was too obvious, and Luke leaned in, curious.

"What are you working on?"

"Just my weekly report," I lied smoothly.

He offered a vague "Oh," then reached out to gently take my bandaged hand, inspecting the ointment I had applied.

"My parents want us to come over for dinner on New Year's. I think they want to talk about the wedding."

"They're hoping we can set a date right after the holidays. They mentioned that since you're still young, we should start trying for a baby soon."

I couldn't help but let out a sarcastic dry laugh. "Oh? Did your mother change her mind about only letting me marry into the family if I guarantee her a grandson?"

When Luke and I first started dating, his parents had been incredibly sweet to me.

But everything changed during a family dinner when they casually asked how many children I planned to have. When I told them I wanted to focus on my career for a few more years, his father's face instantly hardened, and his mother threw her silverware onto the table.

Determined to speed up my pregnancy, his mother had eventually started bringing over bizarre, traditional folk remediespots of foul-smelling stews made of animal parts that gave me nightmares for weeks.

When Luke finally snapped and threw one of the pots into the trash, his mother had screamed at us: "You will only walk down the aisle when you're carrying a boy! If she can't produce a grandson, you two might as well break up right now!"

I had kept my head down and endured it back then, but tonight, I was done keeping the peace.

Luke frowned, immediately leaping to his mother's defense. "She was just talking out of anger, Tara. I can't believe you're still holding a grudge over that. You're being incredibly petty."

"Whatever my mom said, she only wants what's best for us."

"Just bring a nice gift, apologize when we go over, and let it go. Got it?"

His fingers tightened around my wrist. I winced and forcefully pulled my arm away.

"Don't worry," I said, a cold smile touching my lips. "Your family is going to get exactly the kind of daughter-in-law they want."

Just not me.

Luke took my words as submission, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise. He tried to lean in to kiss me, but I turned my head away.

"What is it now?" he grumbled.

"I think I'm coming down with something. I'm sleeping in the guest room tonight."

Ignoring his exasperated sigh, I went into the room and turned the lock.

The next morning, the moment I walked out of the bathroom, Luke glared at me from the kitchen.

"Why didn't you make breakfast?"

I raised my bandaged right hand, offering him a blank look. "Because my hand is burned."

He let out a stiff, awkward cough to mask his embarrassment. "Right. Well, get ready quickly. Cheryl is waiting for us."

I walked toward the door, checking my phone. Ian had sent over the official employment contract first thing in the morning.

When we reached the car, I bypassed the passenger door Luke had opened for me and slid directly into the backseat.

"Tara, what are you doing?" Luke stared at me, visibly annoyed. "What is wrong with you lately?"

As he tried to peer over my shoulder to see my screen, I locked my phone.

"Let Cheryl sit in the front," I said flatly. "Consider it a chance to show off your driving skills."

He choked on his words, unable to find a comeback.

Throughout the drive, he kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror, trying to read my expression. I ignored him, focused on my phone, and digitally signed the contract.

We picked Cheryl up halfway through the commute.

She immediately announced she wanted breakfast from a trendy, high-end bakery downtown.

Luke, who had always scoffed at trendy spots and hated waiting in lines, didn't hesitate to drive five miles out of our way. He spent forty minutes standing in the freezing morning air just to get her order.

"Luke really is the perfect boyfriend, isn't he?" Cheryl said from the front passenger seat, looking back at me while her fingers lightly traced the designer necklace resting against her collarbone. "Tara, I have to admit, I'm incredibly jealous of you."

I let my lips curve into a faint smile as I watched Luke jogging back to the car through the winter mist.

"If you like him that much, feel free to take him. He seems more than willing."

Luke got back in, carefully wrapping the warm pastries in insulated paper before handing them to Cheryl.

Cheryl gasped softly. "Oh, Luke, you're so forgetful! Did you forget to get Tara's share?"

Luke froze, his hand suspended in mid-air.

He opened his mouth to say he would run back and buy another, but he caught my calm, indifferent gaze.

"It's fine," I said. "I'm watching my weight."

The rest of the drive was suffocatingly quiet. Cheryl kept trying to show Luke funny videos on her phone to break the ice, but Luke's responses were distracted, his eyes constantly darting back to me in the mirror.

The moment I walked into the office, I submitted my official resignation.

Cheryl signed off on it immediately, without asking a single question.

When Luke found out, he looked as though he had been hit by a truck. He marched over to my desk, his eyes searching mine, but I simply took a slow, calm sip of my coffee.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" He lowered his voice, his brow furrowed in utter confusion. "The Zephyr Motors accountyou've been working your tail off for that pitch for months. You could at least finish the bid before you walk out."

I threw my paper cup into the recycling bin, rubbing my aching temple. "There's no point. I'm not waiting around anymore."

I had originally planned to wait until the year-end bonuses were distributed, but now, I didn't want to spend another single day in this place.

As for the Zephyr Motors account? I would just win it back later.

New Years Day arrived quickly.

I brought along some organic, homemade preserves and local treats my parents had sent from our hometown to Luke's parents' house.

His father greeted me with a polite, albeit hollow, smile. "Tara, we appreciate the gesture from your parents. But tell them not to go through the trouble next time. We have everything we need here in the city."

His mother peeked inside the bag, her face pinched with hesitation. "Oh dear, I wonder if these home-packaged goods meet proper sanitation standards. There are so many bugs going around these days, and my stomach is far too sensitive. I wouldn't dare risk it."

Luke shot me a reassuring look and laughed weakly. "Mom, don't be so dramatic. If you guys don't want them, we'll just take them back home with us."

His mother took my hand, adopting a patronizingly warm tone. "Tara, sweetie, once you officially join our family, you'll need to start aligning your tastes and habits with ours."

I pulled my hand back, slowly but deliberately. "Mrs. Peterson, we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves. Nothing is set in stone."

"Oh, don't be silly, dear. That's exactly why we're gathered here todayto talk about the future," she beamed. "Luke told us you quit your job. That's wonderful. Now you can focus entirely on taking care of the home."

Luke poured me a cup of tea, looking pleased with himself. "See, Mom, Dad? You two don't have to worry anymore."

I gently pushed his hand away, my voice flat. "I think you've all misunderstood."

"I only resigned from my current position. I have no intention of giving up my career."

His mother's smile instantly vanished. She shot a sharp, accusing look at Luke before turning back to me. "You still want to pursue a career? Tara, we are a very traditional family. We simply cannot accept these modern, independent ideas of yours."

His father's face darkened as well. "The Peterson family door is open for a supportive, nurturing wife. We have no room for a career-obsessed woman."

Luke turned to me, his brow heavily furrowed. "Tara, you promised me you'd try to get along with my parents. What is this?"

Faced with their collective hostility, my expression remained completely unchanged.

I was just about to use this perfect opportunity to end our relationship when the doorbell rang.

Standing on the threshold was Cheryl.

"Cheryl? What are you doing here?" Luke asked, completely blindsided.

Upon learning she was Luke's department head, his parents instantly broke into obsequious smiles, their cold attitudes toward me vanishing in a second.

Then his mother glared at me. "What are you standing there for? Go make some tea for our guest."

Cheryl sat down, looking appropriately modest, a delicate, shy smile playing on her lips.

"Luke, there's something I need to tell you." She looked around the room. "And since your family is here, I think it's best to be completely open."

She reached into her designer bag, pulled out a folded piece of medical paperwork, and laid it flat on the coffee table.

The moment Luke saw what was written on the sheet, he bolted upright, knocking over his teacup.

He looked at me, the color completely draining from his face. He was trembling, caught in a state of absolute shock.

His mother picked up the paper, scanning it quickly, her eyes widening with pure ecstasy.

"Oh my goodness... you're carrying Luke's child?"

Cheryl rested a hand gently over her stomach, looking soft and vulnerable. "I'm twelve weeks along. The doctor said... it's a boy."

"Oh, this is a miracle! Look at this, honey! We're finally getting a grandson!"

His parents were practically weeping with joy.

But my world had gone completely cold.

A wave of violent, suffocating nausea hit me. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, the sharp bite of pain the only thing keeping me from throwing up right then and there.

I swallowed the bitter, acidic taste in my throat, forcing myself to stand up.

"Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, I'll be leaving now."

They were far too busy fussing over Cheryl to even look up. They ignored me entirely.

"Tara wait!"

Luke took a step toward me, but Cheryl reached out, her fingers catching his sleeve with desperate longing. "Luke, aren't you happy we're having a baby boy?"

I closed the door behind me, shutting out the rest of his answer.

On the drive back, I pulled over and sent a simple text:

We are completely done. Don't contact me again.

After sending it, I blocked his number, along with his parents' and Cheryl's.

Back at the apartment, as I was packing my bags, I found two velvet jewelry boxes tucked deep inside the dresser drawer. Inside was a pair of matching Mobius-strip promise rings, engraved with our initials on the inner bands.

I had no doubt that once, Luke had truly wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.

But the future I wanted no longer had any room for him.

Without a trace of emotion, I shut the drawer.

I left my house keys on the dining table and walked out, never looking back.