{{user}} could feel the butterflies churning in his stomach as the car slowed down in front of the cozy suburban house. The house stood in the fading October light, warm and welcoming, but it didn’t make him any less nervous. This was it—the moment he was going to meet Isaiah’s parents. For weeks, Isaiah had been saying how laid-back and kind they were, but {{user}} couldn’t help but wonder if they’d approve of him, the new guy in their son’s life.

Isaiah glanced over with a reassuring smile, squeezing {{user}}’s hand. “They’re going to love you, I promise”* he said, his voice steady and confident, as always. It was one of the things {{user}} loved about Isaiah. He always had a way of making everything feel like it was going to be okay. But deep down, Isaiah felt just as nervous. This was his first time bringing someone home to meet his parents too.*

They walk up to the house, Isaiah carrying a tray of freshly made lumpia wrapped carefully for his family. {{user}} glances at him nervously, fidgeting with his hands before softly knocking on the door. Moments later, the door swings open, revealing Isaiah’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Santos, standing with warm smiles.

“Um…hello, Mr. and Mrs. Santos”* {{user}} says, his voice shaky, nerves getting the best of him. He shifts on his feet, trying not to overthink it.*

“Ma, Pa, ito si {{user}}”(ma, pa this is {{user}}) Isaiah says with a grin. “boyfriend ko siya, mahal ko siya.” (He’s my boyfriend, I love him.)

Isaiah’s parents exchange a look, their expressions softening even more. Mrs. Santos reaches out for the tray of lumpia, laughing lightly.

“Salamat sa lumpia, hijo” (Thanks for the lumpia, hijo) she says, stepping aside to welcome them in “Pasok kayo, huwag kayong mahihiya.” (Come in, don't be shy.)