Her Partner's Darkest Fear is She'd Outshine Him

When Marianne saw her ultrasound report, she jumped up and down in the hospital hallway. She spent the rest of the day clearing out entire shelves from one maternity store to another.

The day also marked her and Kennedy's 10th wedding anniversary. She called him, saying, "Hey, can you come home early tonight? I have something really exciting to tell you!"

For once, Kennedy sounded thoughtful. "How do you make comfort soup that doesn't taste bitter? I've been trying to figure it out."

Marianne quickly sent him a list of her best recipes, feeling hopeful. Maybe he was planning a sweet surprise for their anniversary—or maybe even for the baby!

But the hours dragged by, and midnight came without him.

Instead of hearing the door open, her phone buzzed. It was a notification from Instagram—a post from Suzanne's account.

[Uncle Ken's comfort soup, y'all! Mmm, so sweet! Not bitter at all! I swear my cramps are completely gone!]

The post showed a rare photo of Kennedy in the kitchen, sweat dripping from his forehead as he stirred a pot of soup.

Sweet? Marianne had never been given that kind of sweetness.

Bitter? Suzanne had never had to swallow the bitterness Marianne endured every day.

As she thought about everything she'd endured over the years, Marianne couldn't stop shaking. Sitting on the couch, tears ran down her face, cutting like knives.

For years, Suzanne had always clung to Kennedy, calling him "Uncle Ken" in the sweetest voice. Whenever Marianne tried to get time alone with him, Suzanne would conveniently fall "sick," cut her wrists, or even threaten to jump off a building.

"You can't have kids, Uncle Ken," Suzanne had once told him. "If you do, you won't have enough love left for me."

And Kennedy had listened—he'd pull further and further away from Marianne, growing colder with each passing year.

But with Suzanne? He was constantly warm and attentive. She'd get a scratch, and he'd fly home from another country to check on her. He skipped milestone moments in his life with Marriane just to attend Suzanne's debut.

It was clear: Marianne would never win against Suzanne and would never be enough for Kennedy.

But now? Marianne didn't want to keep him for herself anymore.

She didn't want anything to do with him.

"If your stomach hurts, take some meds," Kennedy said flatly. "Don't be dramatic. You're not a kid."

His face was cold as he handed her a box of painkillers. "Three times a day, one pill each time. But since your stomach's weak, take half a pill."

Marianne could tell from the peeling labels and half-empty packs—they were Suzanne's leftovers.

"Got it," Marianne said, her voice resigned. She didn't have the energy to argue anymore.

Not now, not ever again.

Kennedy must've realized he'd been too harsh. Or maybe the tears on her face made him feel guilty. His tone shifted slightly as he added, "Here, I got you something."

He pulled out a large box, wrapped in purple—the color she'd always loved.

It had been years since he'd made any effort like this.

Marianne wiped her nose and carefully unwrapped the box.

But the first thing she saw was the label: Anti-Aging Kit.

"Suzie helped me pick it out," Kennedy said proudly. "She thought it was perfect for you. Do you like it?"

'Anti-aging? I'm only 29. How old did Suzanne think I am?' Marianne thought bitterly.

Clearly, this wasn't just a gift—it was Suzanne's latest insult.

Every time the three of them attended a party, Suzanne would cling to Kennedy's arm, calling him "Uncle Ken" in the sweetest tone.

But when she addressed Marianne, her voice would rise, making sure everyone could hear loud and clear: "Aunt Marianne!"

Marianne was only 10 years older than her. Calling her "Marianne" or even "Miss Marianne" would've worked just fine.

But no—Suzanne always emphasized "Aunt," highlighting their age gap, rubbing it in like a little jab to remind Marianne how much younger and more desirable Suzanne seemed in comparison. It used to make Marianne's skin crawl.

The anti-aging "gift" might've snapped Marianne or might've made her explode into a scene. But now? She just didn't care anymore.

[Uncle Ken! Does Aunt Marianne like the gift I picked? [smiling face with smiling eyes emoji] [star-struck emoji]]