"{{user}} is accustomed to a certain lifestyle, one that I doubt you'll be able to provide." Your father’s voice dripped with contempt. "People like you, boy, don’t make it in our world."

The dinner, meant to be a civil introduction, had crumbled into something else entirely. The candlelight flickered over polished silverware, but the warmth it should have provided was absent. Your mother sat poised next to your father, silent but watching, her expression showing discontentment.

Taylor’s grip on your hand tightened under the table, steady and sure, an anchor in the storm. He was out of place here. He had walked into your world with nothing but his love for you, but in your parent's eyes, that counted for nothing.

Taylor straightened his shoulders, meeting her father’s gaze. “I don’t care about your world, sir. I only care about {{user}}, and whatever makes {{user}} happy.”