Too Late to Beg for My Love

This year on Mother's Day, my girlfriend invited me to her family's home.

I jumped at the chance, convinced she was finally ready to give me a real place in her life.

I showed up at the front gate loaded down with bags of expensive supplements, looked up, and froze.

The family's stable hand was leading a horse out of the back courtyard, and the first words out of his mouth were about me paying respects.

“Call her Mom. Knock your head on the ground a few times. Then we'll consider letting you through the door.”

Rebecca Henson stood off to the side, picking at her manicure, not the least bit surprised.

I thought I was still dreaming：

“Becca, isn't today about visiting your mother? This joke's getting out of hand.”

Val Dickerson let out a cold laugh and slapped the horse's flank：

“Clearly never seen the world. This mare is the family's prized horse—she keeps the evil out and the luck in for the Hensons. Today's the third anniversary of her foaling, so Mother's Day is hers by right. You don't kowtow three times and call her Mom, you don't set foot inside.”

I stood there torn, turned to Rebecca for help, and found she was dead serious.

When I didn't move, Rebecca dropped every trace of her usual sweetness and jabbed a finger at me：

“You won't kneel? I've told you before. In this house, you listen to me, and you listen to Val!”

Fury shot straight to my head, and then Rebecca started counting down：

“Ten seconds. Every second you're late, that's one more kowtow!”

Val stood there grinning, raising the riding crop in a silent threat.

I was so angry I almost laughed. I didn't move an inch.

I stood ramrod straight.

Rebecca's brow creased：

“Fine. If you won't behave, Val can teach you a lesson.”

The next second, Val actually climbed onto my back and rode me like a horse.

Watching the woman I loved clap and cheer, something inside me went quiet.

Back home, the women begging for a marriage alliance with me lined up all the way to France.

So why was I here debasing myself against a stable hand?

……

“That's it! Val, your riding's really improved!”

Rebecca's smile, the one that used to light up every room, had never looked so ugly.

Val's full weight pinned me down.

Even in a moment this humiliating,

all I could think was that this was my first time coming to her family's door—I couldn't let things blow up.

I forced the words out, trying to reason with them：

“If this is a joke, let's end it here. I'll act like none of it happened.”

Val threw his head back laughing and cracked the riding crop across my thigh.

“Nobody's joking with you. You heard what Becca said. You won't listen, so don't blame me for punishing you!”

Pain twisted through my chest. Eight years with Rebecca, and the number of times I'd called her Becca I could count on one hand.

Only because she'd always said the nickname was too cheesy.

Yet a servant at her side could overstep like it was nothing, calling her Becca as if he had every right.

And Rebecca just smiled and let it happen.

That difference hurt more than anything the riding crop left on my body.

My eyes burned as I stared at Rebecca：

“You're serious, aren't you? You're really letting a servant humiliate the man you've been with for eight years?”

Rebecca looked at me like I'd told a joke：

“Oh, quit with the poor-me act. It's a few kowtows, not like I'm asking you to die. You can't even manage that and you still call yourself my boyfriend?”

I looked at the woman standing in front of me, radiating contempt.

I had come here today ready to propose.

Instead I'd been toyed with, and worse, trampled as a person.

For the first time, I asked myself whether what I had with Rebecca was worth any of this.

I gathered every ounce of strength I had and surged to my feet, sending Val sprawling.

He hit the ground hard, legs over head, staring up at me in disbelief.

After all this time, it was the first time I'd ever defied him.

Before he could open his mouth, Rebecca was already on her feet.

She shoved a finger in my face and screamed：