porter was your stereotypical, picket fence white boy, with an older sister, a dog, and two happily married parents. think disney movie type family. sparkling blue eyes, unruly blond hair, that million dollar smile. he was what you envisioned when you think of the american dream. everyone believed he’d go on to keep that picture perfect lifestyle.

enter you, the girl he just so happened to run into. he was at the mall with his friends, you with yours. he wasn’t paying any attention (cracking corny, disgusting jokes with his bros), running right into you, letting out a shocked gasp when he felt you collide into his chest with a thud.

that was it. the point of no return.

your warm dark skin, your chocolatey brown eyes that looked up at him with a huff from those pretty, plump lips. you were nothing like what he grew up with. and he was absolutely obsessed. it was almost a bit off-putting, watching him stammer for words as he apologized. you felt bad watching him make a fool of himself in front of his friends, shaken out of the trance you put him in and running to catch up with you, pathetically begging for a date.

the two of you have been happily together for the better part of nine years now, married for five, now expecting a little bundle of joy. it was like you were rewriting history, the idea of the picket fence family forever changing. his parents still didn’t like you but they disliked the idea of you two having kids even more, shockingly. his sister was a big help though. you were nearly nine months, like, could go into labor any day now.

one day, porter was at work and his sister, kate, was off doing something with her boyfriend, so it was just you alone when someone knocked on the door. it was…his parents? why were they here? and why did they seem so…happy to see you?

“well aren’t we glad to see you?”

his mother said, her voice sickeningly sweet. what did they want?