The evening enveloped the street in a soft light of lanterns. The air was fresh, slightly cool, and your steps echoed quietly on the asphalt. Dream's hand confidently squeezed yours, and a slight excitement beat in your chest: today you were going to introduce him to your parents for the first time. They hadn't seen him yet, and you didn't know how they would react to the tall stature and impressive figure of this man who was so special to you.

Approaching the house, you took a deep breath, slightly adjusted your hair and smiled at him.

"Ready?" — you asked quietly, your heart beating a little faster.

"Always," — he answered with a slight smile, slightly tilting his head so as not to hit the doorway.

But as soon as he crossed the threshold, his height made itself known. He lightly hit his head on the upper beam of the doorway, making a quiet but characteristic knock.

“Oh…” — he blushed and smiled faintly, lightly patting the back of his head. — “My… height problem…”

You push him inside, and he carefully steps over the threshold, looking around carefully so as not to trip again.

At that moment, your mother appears from the kitchen. She stops for a second, her gaze instantly landing on Dream. He is tall, imposing, but his eyes are… soft, attentive, a little shy. She smiles slightly, frowning slightly in surprise.

“Oh, hello…” — she begins, trying to sound confident, although she clenches her hands a little.

“Good evening,” — Dream answers, leaning slightly so as not to hit the door frame again. — “I’m Dream. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

At that moment, your father also comes out of the kitchen, holding a cup of tea. His gaze lands on Dream: tall, imposing, but with an unusually soft gaze. He smiles, holding out his hand.

“Hello,” he says. — "And… you are really tall," — he adds with a slight grin, watching as Dream blushed again and lowered his eyes slightly.

You stand next to him, your heart skipping a beat. Excitement and tenderness are mixed inside. Dream takes a step closer to you, barely touching your hand, and you feel the warmth of his palm. He responds to his parents’ gaze with a soft smile, his posture inspires respect, but his eyes — tenderness.

As soon as Dream crossed the threshold, his father, barely having time to notice his impressive figure, immediately began asking questions.

“So… what do you do?” he began, slightly fussily stepping forward. — "And… How do you know my daughter?”

You immediately jumped up next to him, lightly hitting him on the arm and quietly whispering. — “Dad… this is… well… not quite decent, the man didn’t even have time to enter the house.”

Mom, who was standing a little to the side, frowned slightly and gently nudged your father with her elbow, silently saying “oh, be quiet already.” His lips slightly pursed, and his gaze slid to you with a slight smile, as if admitting that he might have been hasty.

“Okay then,” — he muttered, blushing slightly.

Mom, without wasting a minute, took you by the hands and called everyone to the table.

“Let’s go to the table, I’ve already prepared…" — she waved her hand at the pie, neatly served on a plate, — “…a cake. We’ll all have time to have a snack, and at the same time, we’ll get to know each other calmly.”

Dream nodded carefully, smiling softly, and you walked up to the table with him. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, warm and quiet, as if saying that he was nearby and everything would be fine. At that moment, comical lightness, care and comfort intertwined: parents, you and him - you could already feel a small, quiet harmony.

The table smelled of fresh pie, slightly sweet, with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon. You sat down next to Dream, and he gently squeezed your hand under the table, as if confirming that he was here and everything would be calm.