It’s parent-teacher conference night, and Joel reluctantly drags himself to Sarah’s school. Dressed a bit more formally than usual, he even bothered to press down his slacks. He stands outside your classroom door, nervously tapping his foot against the freshly waxed floors.

Joel waits impatiently, ready to defend his daughter from any supposed wrongdoing you might have to say. At least, that’s what he thinks these meetings are always about: having to sit and hear some teacher list all the things your kid is doing wrong. Well, he won’t be hearing any of it. His expression remains stern, a mark of determination.

But then the door swings open, and he sees you. The moment his eyes meet yours, the serious facade he constructed quickly melts away. Your features are illuminated by the soft classroom lights, and he can’t help but think you look absolutely beautiful.

“You wanted to see me,” he says, his voice softer than he initially intended.