She Chose His Scooter Over My Sportscar

On Valentine's Day, I paid in full for a sports car and gave it to my wife as a gift.

But when my wife arrived at the private dining restaurant, she brought her parents—and her childhood sweetheart—along with her.

The moment my mother-in-law saw it, she slammed her hand on the table, furious.

"Tyler, do you have so much money that it's burning a hole in your pocket? Is all this really necessary just for a meal?

"Megan pinches every penny at home, and here you are throwing money around outside—just to show off?"

Embarrassed, I tried to explain that this was simply a token of my love for Megan.

My father-in-law, however, kept a stern face.

"No matter how expensive the car is, it's still going to get stuck in traffic during rush hour! It's not even as useful as the electric scooter Brandon gave her. If you ask me, you didn't put any real thought into this.

"Oh, right. I heard the salesperson who sold you the car was introduced by Brandon. How exactly are you planning to repay that favor? No matter how busy you are with work, you can't just push everything onto Brandon to handle for you."

I could hear the hidden meaning behind his words.

So that was what this was really about.

They were still holding a grudge because a week ago, when my father-in-law had twisted his back, I hadn't gone to the hospital to visit him.

But at the time, I had been busy cleaning up the mess Brandon Hayes had caused for the company.

I'd even kept him out of prison.

Yet, instead of gratitude, they were turning the blame on me.

After a long silence, my wife finally looked at me.

"Tyler, transfer ten percent of the company's shares to Brandon as repayment."

"And if I don't?"

My father-in-law barked angrily, "Then I'll have Megan divorce you!"

I laughed.

Then I calmly pulled a divorce agreement from my pocket and placed it on the table.

"Go ahead," I said. "Sign it."

"You could eat anywhere—did you really have to book a place this far away? Honestly, you've got nothing better to do!"

When I saw my wife arrive with her parents and her childhood sweetheart, the four of them pulling up on two electric scooters by the roadside, I froze where I stood.

Today was Valentine's Day. It was also the tenth anniversary of us being together.

I had worked nonstop for three straight months to secure a major project, and I'd just been promoted to vice president.

I spent over 100 thousand dollars setting up the venue, staying up late into the night to finalize every detail myself. All so I could surprise her today—and finally fulfill the promise I made ten years ago.

Thinking about the photos we'd take to commemorate the moment, I had even reminded her over the phone to wear something nice.

But now, the four people standing less than six feet away from me were bundled in thick coats, layer upon layer, their hands tucked inside the sleeves.

They stood outside the most luxurious restaurant in Alyes City… looking as disheveled as beggars.

Several curious glances drifted our way. A flicker of embarrassment—and irritation—rose in my chest.

"Didn't I tell you to wear something decent and take a taxi here?" I said. "And also…"

'Why did you bring them?' I swallowed these words.

I didn't know if she had failed to understand the hint in my phone call—that tonight was meant to be a date. Or if she understood perfectly well and simply didn't take it seriously.

It felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over me. The excitement I'd felt while preparing this surprise sank straight to the bottom.

My father-in-law spat a thick glob of phlegm onto the ground.

"What are you standing there for? Aren't you going to take us inside so we can warm up in the air-conditioning?"

My mother-in-law wrinkled her nose and nodded.

"Exactly! You haven't even greeted us. What kind of upbringing…"

But as she said those words, Megan Brooks shot her a glance, and her voice immediately dropped.

My fists clenched. My body stiffened.

I had no parents. I grew up in an orphanage. Even though I had achieved success in my career now, my background remained the most sensitive wound in my heart.

In the ten years we'd been together, Megan had never once touched that wound in front of me.

Sensing the tension in my body, she seemed to feel a little guilty. The reluctance on her face faded as she tugged lightly at my hand.

"Honey, taxis are expensive and traffic is terrible during rush hour. I just wanted to save a little money. The wind's strong out here. Let's go inside first."

I wanted to tell her she didn't have to pinch pennies for my sake.

But when I felt how cold her hand was—like a piece of ice—I simply wrapped it in my warm palm, forced a smile, and invited them inside.

The moment I pushed the door open, the deep, velvety notes of a piano drifted gently through the elegant space.