Stuck in an elevator with a stranger was bad enough. But when Lena found out Dylan—a charming, suit-clad mystery man—needed a fake date for a wedding the next day, things got even weirder. A power outage, a bold proposition, and one tempting question: Would she really say yes to a total stranger?
Lena checked her watch for the third time in a minute. Late. Again.
She exhaled sharply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she strode down the boutique hotel’s hallway.
The air smelled of fresh lilies, their floral sharpness mixed with the faintest trace of citrus and polished wood.
It was the kind of scent that clung to weddings—the kind that brought memories of champagne toasts, aching feet in high heels, and teary speeches that went on too long.
A fitting reminder, considering her best friend had gotten married last week.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Lena reached the elevator and jabbed the button, as if sheer determination could speed up the machinery.
She bounced on her heels, fingers tapping anxiously against the strap of her bag.
The soft chime of the elevator arriving barely registered in her brain before she darted inside.
Just as the doors started closing, a blur of movement caught her eye. A man lunged in after her, his shoulder bumping into hers as her suitcase wobbled dangerously.
“Sorry—” he started, a breathless chuckle in his voice. He straightened, brushing an imaginary wrinkle from his crisp suit.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Lena barely spared him a glance. “No worries.”
And then, everything stopped.
The elevator jerked violently. The lights flickered once, twice, then steadied. The hum of movement vanished.
Lena’s stomach clenched. A thick, loaded silence filled the small space.
She pressed the button repeatedly. Nothing.
“Oh, no. No, no, no,” she muttered, pressing her palm against the cool metal doors as if she could will them open.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Beside her, the man let out a deep sigh and leaned against the wall. “Classic. Always when you’re in a rush.”
Lena finally turned to him fully. Sharp blue eyes. Tousled blond hair. A suit that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover.
A Hallmark movie hero, if she’d ever seen one.
“I take it you have somewhere important to be?” he asked, his lips quirking in amusement.
“A dinner with a friend,” she muttered. “She got married last week. We planned this before I leave town.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Ah,” he nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Funny coincidence. The wedding I’m going to is tomorrow.”
Lena blinked. “Wait. You’re—”
“Dylan.” He extended a hand, palm up, as if this was the most normal introduction in the world. “Groom’s best friend. And emergency wedding date seeker.”
Before she could even process that, the intercom crackled overhead.
“Uh, folks? Seems like we’ve got a small power outage affecting the elevators. We’re working on it. Might take a bit.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Lena closed her eyes briefly. “Perfect.”
Dylan chuckled. “Look on the bright side. At least we’re not alone in here.”
She shot him a look. “Right. Because being stuck with a stranger is somehow better than being stuck alone.”
He shrugged, flashing a lazy grin. “Depends on the stranger, doesn’t it?”
They stood in awkward silence for a moment. The hum of hotel activity beyond the metal doors felt distant, as if they were suspended in time.
Then, out of nowhere, Dylan asked, “So, any chance you’re up for a second wedding in a week?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Lena turned to him slowly, brow raised. “Excuse me?”
“I need a date for the wedding.” He smirked, leaning against the wall like this was just another casual conversation.
“My ex is going to be there, and I’d rather not be the guy sitting alone at the singles table. Think of it as a fake date for a noble cause.”
Lena let out a short laugh. Was this guy serious?
“You’re really asking a total stranger to be your plus-one while we’re trapped in an elevator?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Dylan shrugged, completely unbothered. “So, is it a yes or a no?”
Lena never thought she’d actually go through with it.
The whole thing had sounded ridiculous—a fake date with a man she barely knew, just to help him save face at a wedding. And yet, here she was.
She smoothed her hands down the fabric of her red dress, the one she had almost left hanging in the back of her suitcase.
It wasn’t her usual style—too bold, too eye-catching, too much.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But something about tonight made her want to be someone else, even if just for a few hours.
Dylan stood beside her, a glass of champagne in one hand, his other resting lightly on the small of her back. Steady, effortless, completely at ease. Unlike her.
She forced a polite smile as yet another guest approached, throwing curious glances her way.
Weddings were strange like that—everyone wanted to know who you were, why you were there, if your presence meant something.
Dylan, on the other hand, played the part perfectly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He leaned down, murmuring in her ear, “That woman in the blue dress has been trying to figure out if we’re engaged for the past ten minutes.”
Lena barely stopped herself from laughing. “Should I flash a fake ring just to mess with her?”
His eyes twinkled. “Tempting. But then I’d have to plan an even faker proposal.”
They moved through the ballroom like they had done this a hundred times before—his touch easy, his words charming, his smile like a safety net.
And then there was the dance.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The moment his fingers laced with hers, the moment he guided her into a slow, fluid rhythm, Lena forgot for a second that this wasn’t real.
His grip was firm but gentle, the kind that told her to trust him. The warmth of his palm against her waist sent an unfamiliar shiver down her spine.
This was pretend. She knew that. But something about the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the room—made it too easy to forget.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
As the bride and groom swayed in the center of the dance floor, Lena tilted her head up. “So, tell me,” she murmured, “what’s the deal with this ex of yours?”
Dylan took a sip of champagne, and for the first time all night, his smile flickered. Just for a second.
“Maya,” he said, rolling the name on his tongue like it was still a part of him. “We dated for a while. Things got… complicated.”
Lena raised a brow. “Complicated how?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He exhaled slowly, eyes flicking down to the golden liquid swirling in his glass. “She thought I wasn’t serious enough. That I didn’t have time for her.”
“And did you?”
Dylan paused, then let out a dry chuckle. “Maybe not. But I was trying.”
Before Lena could respond, someone called Dylan’s name.
She turned just in time to see her.
Maya.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Lena didn’t need an introduction to know exactly who she was.
Tall. Poised. Beautiful in that effortless way that made other women feel like they were trying too hard.
Her presence filled the room with a quiet kind of power—like she knew she belonged anywhere she went.
And when she reached Dylan, she hugged him.
Not a casual, polite hug. Not an awkward, we-used-to-date hug.
Something in between. Something that made Lena’s chest tighten in a way it shouldn’t have.
She wasn’t supposed to care. This wasn’t real.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
And yet, it sure as hell felt like it was.
The reception was in full swing—laughter, clinking glasses, music that vibrated through the floor—but Lena barely heard any of it.
Her fingers gripped the stem of her champagne glass a little too tightly as she watched Dylan and Maya across the room.
Too close. Too familiar. Too much. Their voices were low, their expressions unreadable. Whatever they were saying, it wasn’t for her to hear.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
And yet, she couldn’t look away.
This was supposed to be a game. A favor. A night of harmless pretending. But now, her stomach twisted, and she hated the feeling.
A shadow moved beside her. “Everything okay?”
Dylan.
Lena blinked, dragging her gaze from Maya. She forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. “Great. You and Maya catching up?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Dylan’s frown was subtle but there. “Not really. She just wanted to check in.”
Check in. Right.
“Lena,” he started, voice softer now, careful. “You know this isn’t—”
“Not real?” she cut in, her heart hammering. “Yeah. I know.”
The words felt wrong.
She swallowed hard. She needed to leave before she made a fool of herself.
“Thanks for the night, Dylan,” she said, turning on her heel. “But I think I’m done playing pretend.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
And then, she walked away.
Lena had her bag packed before the sun had fully risen. She had spent the night convincing herself that walking away was the right choice. No messy feelings. No unnecessary complications. Just a clean break.
But as she slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped into the hotel lobby, her chest felt heavier than it should. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep. Maybe it was something else.
She headed toward the café, craving caffeine and distraction, but fate had other plans.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She turned the corner too fast, and suddenly—collision.
Hot coffee sloshed dangerously close to her dress as Dylan stumbled back, gripping his cup to stop the spill.
“Lena?” His voice was a mix of surprise and something else—something unreadable.
She cursed under her breath. Of course. Of course, she had to run into him now.
“I was just—” she started, but Dylan wasn’t buying it.
“Leaving?” His eyes locked onto hers, sharp, searching. “Without saying anything?”
Lena exhaled, torn between pride and something that felt a lot like longing. “It was just supposed to be a one-time thing, right?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Dylan was silent for a beat, then let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah,” he admitted, voice rough. “That’s what I thought, too.” He hesitated, then took a step closer. “Until I realized I didn’t want it to end.”
Lena’s pulse stumbled. “What?”
“Last night,” he said, his voice softer now, steady, “I watched you walk away, and all I could think about was how much I didn’t want you to go.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her heart thudded against her ribs. “Dylan—”
“I don’t care about Maya,” he cut in, his tone firm, certain. “I don’t care about anyone else. I care about you.”
Lena wanted to believe him. But doubt—fear—clawed at her. “What if this is just—”
“It’s not,” Dylan interrupted, seeing right through her hesitation. “You feel it, too. Don’t you?”
She swallowed hard.
Yes.
Yes, she did.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
So, for once, she stopped overthinking.
She stepped forward, reached up, and kissed him.
A kiss that was warm. Real. Nothing like pretending.
Dylan smiled against her lips. “Does this mean you’ll stay?”
Lena laughed softly. “Maybe. But only if you promise to stop getting us stuck in elevators.”
Dylan chuckled, his hand slipping easily around her waist. “No guarantees.”
And with that, Lena finally let herself fall.
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My 4-Year-Old Son Got Extremely Upset Every Time My MIL Babysat Him – When I Found Out Why, I Got Revenge
Working as a nurse, Zoe often relied on her mother-in-law, Denise, to babysit Leo, her son. But when the little boy becomes visibly shaken by his grandmother’s presence, Zoe has to question the old woman’s actions, only to discover that Denise has a hidden agenda.
I had always thought that my mother-in-law, Denise, was a little overbearing, but I chalked it up to her just being protective of my son, her only grandson, Leo.
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
She was one of those women who carried herself with a certain authority that made you straighten your back and rethink your words. This had become more pronounced when Jeremy, her husband, passed away a few years ago, allowing Denise to reclaim her role as head librarian of the local library.
“Why shouldn’t I?” she asked Andrew, my husband, one day. “I have time now, so there’s no need to just have my part-time role there. And I can have my book club meetings at the library, too.”
“Okay, Mom,” Andrew said. “You do whatever you want.”
A smiling librarian | Source: Midjourney
She wasn’t mean, exactly, but Denise had a way of making you feel small without even trying. But still, she lived two roads away and was always willing to babysit Leo whenever I had a shift at the hospital, and considering Andrew’s unpredictable hours at the law firm, Denise usually had to step in often.
“It’s what grandmothers are for, right, Zoe?” she would say whenever I asked her to come over.
And despite how her moods could shift without a moment’s notice, she was reliable and didn’t complain about it once.
A smiling nurse | Source: Midjourney
But lately, Leo had been acting strange whenever Denise came over. At first, it was small things. He would cling to my leg a little longer than usual when I tried to leave or hide behind the couch when he heard her car pull up in the driveway.
I thought that my son was just going through a phase, or maybe even a bit of separation anxiety. I had seen it all the time with the kids in my ward, especially when they woke up and their parents weren’t in sight.
But then, last week, right before I was about to leave for a night shift, he started crying.
An upset little boy | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t want Grandma to stay with me!” he blurted.
Big, fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and he clutched my scrub with a grip that seemed stronger than a grown man’s.
I knelt beside him, brushing a lock of his blonde hair from his forehead.
A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
“But why, sweetheart?” I asked gently. “Grandma loves you. And she always brings you treats. Remember the brownies and ice cream from last week?”
My son’s eyes darted to the doorway as if expecting her to walk in at any moment.
“Because… Grandma acts strange,” he said, his eyes wide.
I was about to press him further because I needed to know what was going on. But moments later, Denise’s familiar, clipped footsteps echoed down the hallway. Leo bolted off to his room.
An upset little boy | Source: Midjourney
“What’s going on?” Denise asked as she set her purse down on the hallway table. “Where’s my grandbaby?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “He ran to his room to play with his toys. Andrew is away for the next two days. He’s meeting with a client and running through a case.”
Denise nodded.
A little boy running down the hallway | Source: Midjourney
I left for work, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in my stomach. I spent the entire night running between patients and thinking about Leo’s words.
“Grandma acts strange.”
What did that even mean to a four-year-old?
When I got home the next morning, I found my son sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. His favorite cartoons were playing, but he wasn’t watching them. Instead, his eyes were red and puffy, like he had been crying all night.
An upset little boy sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Leo?” I said slowly. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shook his head.
“No, Mommy,” he said. “I stayed up. I didn’t want to sleep.”
“Why not?” I asked, even though I could already feel my heart sinking.
I pulled one of the blankets under the coffee table and wrapped Leo in it, hoping if he felt safer, he would talk.
A woman wrapping her son in a blanket | Source: Midjourney
“Because Grandma scares me,” he said, his hands clutching his teddy bear tightly.
I felt a wave of panic wash over me.
“Scares you? What happened, honey? What did Grandma say or do?”
“She keeps trying to put something into my mouth,” he said. “She chases me with it, and it’s scary.”
An upset little boy | Source: Midjourney
“What is she trying to put into your mouth, sweetheart?” I asked, my voice tight as I strained to show my emotions.
Leo hesitated.
“Cotton buds,” he said. “You know, what you clean my ears with? She said that she wants to put my spit in the tube. I don’t like it. I don’t want it.”
A jar of cotton buds | Source: Midjourney
My blood ran cold. Ever since Leo’s accident a few months ago, where he fell off his bike and landed himself with a broken arm, he’s been terrified of doctors, needles, and anything that reminded him of his time in the hospital.
The thought of Denise running around the house with a cotton swab and a test tube made my blood boil. Why was she trying to get my son to take a DNA test?
“Where’s Grandma?” I asked Leo.
A close up of a little boy | Source: Midjourney
“In the guest room,” he said.
I marched to the guest room and found Denise sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the screaming match that was about to come. Without hesitation, I shook her awake.
“Wake up, we need to talk,” I said.
A sleeping woman | Source: Midjourney
“What’s going on?” she asked, blinking away her sleep.
“Leo just told me that you’ve been trying to swab his mouth for a test? Why are you traumatizing my son? Why do you want him to have a DNA test?” I demanded.
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she was going to deny it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up. “I didn’t mean to frighten Leo. I’ve just been wondering about something…”
A home DNA kit on a counter | Source: Midjourney
“What? What would possibly be so important that you’d do this behind my back?”
“His hair,” she said simply. “Nobody has had blonde hair like that.”
“You think that my son isn’t Andrew’s because of his hair color?” I asked.
“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s been gnawing at me. I just needed to know, but I didn’t want to accuse you…”
A newborn baby | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t believe that you would go to such lengths, Denise.”
“I didn’t know what to think. I’m sorry, Zoe,” she said.
“Please leave, Denise,” I said. “I need time to process this. And I need to focus on Leo.”
She nodded, looking defeated.
A close up of an older woman | Source: Midjourney
Over the next week, things were tense between Andrew and me. While she drove home on the day of the confrontation, she had phoned Andrew and told him everything, firmly securing some seeds of doubt.
“I think we should do the test,” he quietly said one day, not meeting my eyes.
I stared at him, hurt.
“You really think that’s necessary? You believe what your mother is implying?”
A couple sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not that I believe it,” he said. “But if we do the test, we can put this all to rest. No more doubts, no more accusations. What if Leo was switched at birth?”
“I had a home birth!” I exclaimed. “You would have remembered if you were here and not in court.”
I sighed.
“Alright,” I said after a moment. “I’ll do the test for Leo, but on one condition.”
A close up of a frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
“What condition?” he asked.
“If I’m going to do this to prove our son is yours, then you’re going to do a test too. To prove that your father is really your father. Denise needs to know what this feels like.”
Andrew’s eyes widened, shock registering on his face from my request. “What? Why would you even suggest that?”
I could feel his brain overthinking it, but I also knew that he was trying to view the situation from my point of view.
I leaned forward, my voice firm, “Because your mother is the one who’s throwing accusations around. If she’s so obsessed with bloodlines, then maybe she should be sure of her own. So, if you want me to take a test, then you’re going to take one too.”
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
Andrew hesitated, clearly taken aback by my demand. But after a moment, he nodded. “Okay. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.”
A few days later, the test results came back. As expected, the test confirmed that Leo was indeed Andrew’s son.
But there was also another revelation that nobody saw coming.
It turned out that the test results for Andrew showed that his biological father wasn’t the man he had called Dad his entire life.
“What the hell, Zoe?” he said out loud.
“This is a conversation for you and your mother,” I said offhandedly.
A close up of a shocked couple | Source: Midjourney
As much as I wanted to know the truth and to know about Leo’s biological grandfather, I didn’t want to get caught up in Denise’s drama any further. No, thank you. I had a son to focus on. And there was just something about how Denise acted that I wasn’t going to forgive soon.
But eventually, my curiosity gave in and I asked Andrew about his conversation with his mother. It turned out that she had an affair in her youth, resulting in Andrew.
“She said that she had always suspected it, but she didn’t dare do a DNA test while my father was alive. Just imagine, I’ve gone my entire life thinking that my father was just that, my father. But he wasn’t, not biologically. I can’t forgive her, Zoe.”
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
My heart broke for him.
“So, what does this mean?” I asked.
“It means that we take our time and space away from my mother. And we focus on our son. She’s the one who betrayed our family. Not us,” he said.
I nodded, ready to move on and focus on our family.
Apparently, Denise’s guilt had eaten away at her for decades, leading her to project her insecurities onto me and our son.
A smiling mother and son duo | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
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