The First Time My Boyfriend Hit Me, My Dad Told Me To Thank Him.

The Hearing

The day of the hearing arrived. I dressed carefully in a simple blouse and skirt—professional, but not the conservative clothes Troy had forced on me.

I wore my red sneakers. Troy and his lawyer were already there when I arrived with Jasper.

My dad sat behind them, his face a mask of disapproval. I kept my eyes forward, refusing to be intimidated.

The courtroom was smaller than I’d expected, with wooden benches and fluorescent lighting that buzzed faintly overhead. The air conditioning was set too cold, raising goosebumps on my arms.

My red sneakers squeaked slightly on the polished floor as I walked to my seat, the sound seeming unnaturally loud in the quiet room. Troy wore a suit that looked new, his hair perfectly styled, his expression a carefully constructed mask of injured innocence.

My father sat rigidly beside him, his posture perfect as always, his eyes fixed straight ahead. The hearing was surprisingly quick.

Troy’s lawyer tried to paint me as unstable, claiming I had a history of making up stories for attention. But Jasper presented the evidence methodically: the videos, the journal entries, the bruises, and witness statements from Sadie and others.

The judge reviewed everything carefully, then looked directly at Troy. “The restraining order stands,” She said firmly.

“And Mr. Noak, I would advise you to abide by it. The court takes violations very seriously.” She said.

Relief washed over me. I’d won this round.

As we left the courtroom, my dad stepped into my path. “This isn’t over,” He said quietly.

“You’re making a mistake.” He said.

Jasper stepped between us. “Mr. Lou, I suggest you keep your distance from my client.” He said.

My dad’s eyes narrowed. “She’s my daughter.” He said.

“She’s an adult,” Jasper countered.

“And she’s made her wishes clear.” He said.

For a moment, I thought my dad might argue further, but he just shook his head and walked away, joining Troy at the elevator. I should have felt victorious, but instead I felt hollow. This was my family; this was what we’d become.

A Warning from a Stranger

The next day, I went to work at the bookstore, trying to put the hearing behind me. I was restocking the psychology section when I noticed a man watching me.

It wasn’t Troy and it wasn’t my dad; it was someone I’d never seen before. He approached as I was shelving the last book.

“Excuse me, are you Catherine Lou?” He asked.

I tensed, ready to call for help. “Who’s asking?” I asked.

He handed me a business card. “Jesse Tanaka. I’m a private investigator hired by Troy Noak.” He said.

My heart skipped a beat. “You shouldn’t be talking to me. There’s a restraining order.” I said.

“I’m aware. That’s why he hired me.” Jesse’s expression was neutral.

“He wants me to build a case against you. Find dirt, prove you’re unstable.” He said.

I started to walk away. “Then why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“Because I don’t take cases that involve stalking young women.” He said as he followed me to the end of the aisle.

“I’m dropping him as a client. But I thought you should know what you’re dealing with.” He said.

I stopped, turning to face him. “Why should I believe you?” I asked.

Jesse shrugged. “You shouldn’t necessarily. But check my credentials if you want. I’ve been in this business twenty years; never worked for abusers.” He said.

Escalation

After he left, I Googled him. He seemed legitimate, which meant Troy was escalating again, hiring someone to dig into my life.

I told Jasper, who advised me to document the encounter but not to worry too much. “If this PI is legitimate and refusing the case, that’s actually good news. It means Troy’s getting desperate.” He said.

But Troy’s desperation made him more dangerous, not less. I knew that firsthand.

The next week was midterms. I threw myself into studying, grateful for the distraction.

The financial aid had come through—not a lot, but enough to cover my basic expenses. I was making it work.

Then, one evening, I came back to my dorm to find Sadie waiting with a strange expression. “You got a delivery,” She said, pointing to a large box on my bed.

I approached it cautiously. There was no return address.

I opened it to find a wedding dress—not just any wedding dress, but the exact one I’d once mentioned liking when Troy and I had walked past a bridal shop months ago. Pinned to it was a note.

“It’s not too late to make the right choice.” The note said.

“Dad.” It was signed.

I sat down hard, my legs suddenly weak. The dress probably cost thousands, and my dad had bought it as what? A bribe? A threat?

Sadie helped me pack it back in the box. “We should report this,” She said.

“It’s creepy as hell.” She said.

I nodded, numb. “Tomorrow. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” I said.

Visions of the Past

That night, I dreamed of my mom. She was wearing the wedding dress, but it was covered in dirt.

“Don’t let them bury you,” She kept saying.

“Don’t let them bury you like they buried me.” She said.

I woke up gasping, tears streaming down my face. The next day, I took the dress to Juniper’s office.

She documented it, took photos, and added it to my growing file of evidence. “They’re escalating,” She said, echoing my own fears.

“The hearing didn’t deter them. If anything, it’s made them more determined.” She said.

I nodded, twisting my mom’s charm bracelet around my wrist. “What do I do?” I asked.

“Keep documenting. Keep reporting violations.” She said.

She hesitated. “Have you considered a restraining order against your father too?” She asked.

I hadn’t. Despite everything, he was still my dad. The thought of legally cutting him off felt like giving up on him completely.

“I’ll think about it,” I promised.

The Lowest Blow

That weekend, I was working at the bookstore when I got a text from an unknown number. “Check your email. Important.” The text read.

“Kathy.” It was signed.

My aunt never texted me. I checked my email immediately and found a message from her with an attachment.

“Found this on your dad’s computer when he asked me to print something,” She’d written.

“Thought you should see it.” She said.

The attachment was a letter from my dad to the university board of trustees. In it, he detailed concerns about my mental stability and a pattern of false accusations.

He claimed I had a history of seeking attention through lies and suggested the university might want to reconsider my enrollment status. He was trying to get me kicked out of school.

I forwarded the email to Jasper and Juniper, my hands shaking with rage. This was a new low, even for him.

Jasper called me immediately. “This is actually helpful,” He said.

“It shows a pattern of harassment and interference. We can use this if you decide to pursue legal action against your father.” He said.

I thanked him and hung up, then texted my aunt. “Thank you.” I sent.

“Be careful.” She replied with a single heart emoji.