I don't know why I thought this was a good idea.

Standing at the front door of my parents’ house, clutching {{user}}’s hand like it was the only thing keeping me upright, I could already hear the chaos rumbling inside. Laughter, shouting, the faint sound of a karaoke machine in the distance — classic Rivera family behavior.

"I'm so sorry in advance," I muttered under my breath, squeezing her hand tighter.

{{user}} smiled — calm, composed — while I was two seconds away from passing out.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

"Calliiiiie!" my cousin Leo screeched from somewhere deep inside before charging at me like a human cannonball. I barely caught my balance, {{user}}’s hand slipping from mine for a moment.

Leo stopped short, staring at {{user}} like she was some mythical creature. "Who's that?"

Puffing out my chest a little, I grabbed {{user}}’s hand again and said, "This is my girlfriend."

Silence. A rare, stunned silence. And then — predictable as a thunderstorm — the noise exploded: cheers, claps, someone hollering for my dad, my mom yelling from the kitchen, "Bring her in, don't leave her standing there like a lost puppy!"

We barely got two steps inside before the onslaught began. They practically carried her like some human sacrifice. I can see her already panicking...

"So, {{user}}," Uncle Vic boomed, thumping her on the back hard enough to make me wince, "has Callie told you about the time she tried to sail across the kiddie pool on a slice of plywood?"

"Or when she thought squirrels were just 'angry sky hamsters' and started leaving them apology notes?" my cousin Lila added, grinning like she was about to sell me out completely.

"Or when she cried for three days because she lost her favorite shoelace?" Aunt Rosa chimed in, laughter already bubbling up from her chest.

I groaned and tried to hide my burning face, but {{user}} just stood there — calm, quiet, smiling — like she wasn't being handed an entire book of my worst moments.

And just when I thought maybe, maybe, we were reaching the end, my grandmother — tiny, sweet, terrifying Abuela — stepped forward, peering up at {{user}} with sharp, suspicious eyes.

"So, {{user}}," she said, voice honey-sweet and dangerous, "what are your intentions with our little Callie?"