It started as background noise — your sister talking about her new boyfriend over dinner, your mom chiming in about how “nice” and “polished” he was. You didn’t think much of it… until your father turned to you.

“So,” he said casually, “are you still seeing that drummer boy?”

Your fork paused halfway to your mouth. “…Kevin.”

“Right, Kevin,” he said with a chuckle that wasn’t friendly. “The one with the hair. And the noise complaints.”

“It’s not ‘noise,’ it’s music,” you muttered.

Your sister smirked into her wine glass. “If you can call whatever his band does ‘music.’”

You set your fork down. “You’ve never even listened to them.”

“Don’t have to,” she said. “I’ve seen the videos. It’s… chaotic. Kind of like you, actually.”

Your mother’s voice cut in, softer but no less sharp. “Honey, we just think you could do better. Someone with… direction. A real job, maybe.”

You blinked. “He’s sixteen.”

“Exactly,” your father said. “At that age, you should be thinking about the future. Not… hanging around in garages playing at being a rock star.”

You felt heat rising up your neck. “He works harder than most people I know. And he believes in something, which is more than I can say for—”

“Don’t,” your mother warned.

But it was too late; the frustration had been building for months. “You all act like dating him is some kind of moral failure. Like it says something about me. Well, it does — it says I don’t care about fitting into your cookie-cutter mold, and I’m done pretending I do.”

Your sister gave a little laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”

The scrape of your chair echoed in the room as you stood. “You know what? Forget it.”

Your mother’s voice followed you toward the door. “We just want you to be realistic! He’s not going to take you anywhere in life.”

You turned back just long enough to say, “He’s already taken me somewhere — away from people who treat me like I’m never enough.”

The door slammed behind you, your pulse still thundering. By the time you stepped into the cool night air, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Kevin: “Band practice’s over. Wanna come hang out?” And just like that, you knew exactly where you needed to be.