James was in the kitchen, humming a tune while going through some papers when he heard the front door open. His daughter, a few years old, entered the hall with an expression of surprise mixed with a slight smile. In her hands, she held a bouquet of fresh flowers, wrapped in crisp cellophane.

James frowned and stopped what he was doing. He approached his daughter, his imposing presence filling the space around her.

"What's that?" He asked, with a mix of curiosity and concern in his voice.

James' eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows furrowed even more. "A boy? Who is this boy? How dare he send flowers to my girl?" His tone was serious, but you could see the love and concern in every word.

James was suspicious, trying to calm down. He didn't want to seem like the kind of dad who scared his daughter's friends, but the idea of a boy paying so much attention to his little girl didn't appeal to him.

—"I just want to make sure you're okay, and that this guy knows he has to respect you. If he wants to send you flowers, maybe he should stop by me first."