At 1 a.m., I found my stepdad’s dating profile—and the man who’d taught me to ride a bike was looking for “open relationships only.” I created a fake account to catch him cheating and planned to expose him at his birthday party. Then I read the last message he’d sent me and everything fell apart.
The clock on my nightstand glowed 1:14 a.m.
I had downloaded the dating app on a dare from my college roommate three weeks ago.
But I never really used it.
That night, bored and restless, I started swiping just to silence my own thoughts.
Then a familiar face froze my thumb mid-motion.
I had downloaded the dating app on a dare.
Same warm crinkle around the eyes.
Same blue cable-knit sweater my mother had wrapped under the tree last Christmas.
Raymond. My stepfather.
The phone slipped from my fingers and bounced against the comforter.
I picked it up with hands that no longer felt like mine and read the words beneath his profile photo.
Open relationships ONLY. No attachments.
The phone slipped from my fingers
I read it three times.
Four.
The letters refused to rearrange themselves into something less ugly.
I sat up against the headboard, pulling my knees to my chest.
Raymond had walked into our lives when I was eleven, after years of just me and Mom.
He never tried to replace anyone.
Raymond had walked into our lives when I was eleven
He just stayed.
He packed my lunches with little jokes written on the napkins.
He sat through every awful middle-school band concert.
He taught me how to change a tire in the rain because, he said, a daughter of his would never be stranded.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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