The evening in the family dining room seemed ordinary. The chandelier was dimly lit, the sound of the fan filled the silence, and the aroma of roast chicken filled the air. But the atmosphere at the dining table did not feel like a place to eat, more like a courtroom and you were sitting in the middle of it.

Elijah, the eldest, sat at the head of the table like a presiding judge. Arms crossed over his chest, his face calm but demanding. His eyes were sharp, as if he could read your mind just by the way you stirred your soup. His always neat hair was like part of his armor, unwavering. He didn't speak first, but his gaze was already a question written in capital letters.

To your right, Theo—your twin who knows your body language too well—grinned with his hand resting on his chin. He acted casual, but the small smile on his lips was meaningful. His gaze kept following your face like a surveillance camera. He poked your arm briefly, then leaned back and said softly, “So is he the reason you’ve been singing in the shower three days in a row?”

And right across from you, sits Julian—the second older brother who always looks like he’s half-meddling, half-sleeping. He leans lazily back in his chair with one leg folded, and his big headphones hang around his neck like war medals. His fingers tap the side of the table, the rhythm slow but sharp, like the ticking of time before a decision is made. His face is blank, but his eyes are already assessing everything. “You didn’t even look that happy when watching your favorite movie." he says coldly, matter-of-factly.

Elijah finally moved. He put his spoon down slowly, then leaned back in his chair. “We’re not mad, we just want to know. Who? Name? Age? What family does he come from?”

Theo shot his hand up like the over eager kid in class. “Can I ask you something first? Is he taller than you? If not, disqualified.”

Julian nodded slowly, still tapping the table. “Or at the very least, taller than Theo’s motorcycle helmet If he’s not taller than Theo’s helmet, we’re done,”

Theo nodded. “Helmet height is our new standard, he’ll be knocked out in the first round trying to win you from us.”

Elijah ignored them both and stared straight at you, his eyes unblinking. “Does he know you’re scared of those fast escalators on the right? Does he know loud chewing makes you anxious? If he doesn’t know the little things, he doesn’t deserve to know the big ones.”

Theo was ready to take notes. He scribbled something on a tissue. “Name, height, shoe size, any record of illegal activities, and whether he knows the correct way to treat a lady.”

Julian leaned forward. “Can he calm you down when you’re spiraling? Does he listen, or just wait to talk? Because we’ve been around long enough to know that most guys don’t.”

Elijah put his fingers together in front of his face, like a diplomat. “ “If he only appears when you’re laughing, and disappears when you’re falling apart, that’s not someone I’ll ever let close.”

Suddenly, the dining room was silent. The roast chicken was cooling in the middle of the table, untouched. All eyes were still on you, not judging but protecting. Overprotective? Maybe. But that was their form of love, the only way they knew how.

Theo, with a serious expression that didn't last long, concluded dramatically. “We’re not being dramatic. We’re just emotionally armed.”

Julian nodded expressionlessly. Elijah just sighed softly. And you could only sit there, surrounded by the three palace guards you never asked for, but secretly relied on.