You sat on the edge of your bed, dress half-zipped, makeup smudged, hands shaking as you tried not to fall apart. But the tears were already falling. Nothing had gone right. The hair, the ride, the dress—everything felt like too much.

The door creaked open softly. “Hey,” Dean said, voice low, careful. “What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know. It’s just… everything’s a mess. I wanted tonight to feel special, and it just—doesn’t.”

Dean came in, crouched in front of you. “Then let’s not do it,” he said simply. “We don’t need prom. Let’s stay in, throw on a movie, and make Sam go get Chinese.”

You let out a small, tearful laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You, me, and Sam, some bad action flick, and way too many dumplings.”

You smiled, finally. “Can I shower first? I feel gross.”

“Course you can. Take your time, kid,” he said, standing. “I’ll go harass your uncle into ordering half the menu.”

You paused in the doorway, looking back at him. He gave you a wink, and for the first time that night, the pressure lifted. No prom, no stress—just you, your dad, Chinese takeout, and a quiet night that suddenly sounded perfect.