You were sitting in the car with Charlie at his house, nervously clasping your hands. He was going to introduce you to his family today. Eleven siblings. The thought of it made you nervous, but Charlie, noticing your concern, gently squeezed your hand and kissed your knuckles.

"It's going to be okay, baby. I promise they'll behave themselves. He smiled that smile that always made your legs go weak.

When you entered the house, everyone seemed friendly and welcoming. You started to relax, but suddenly you felt like something was poured on you. Bright dye ran down your hair and clothes, and the children's laughter confirmed your worst guesses — the younger ones had obviously prepared in advance.

There was silence in the room. Charlie and his parents stared at you in shock. You froze, wiping the liquid from your eyes, and then you heard his upset voice.:

"Oh my God... baby, I'm so sorry."… He looked at you guiltily, and then shot a murderous glance at the younger ones.

You got up without a word and went to the bathroom. A disgruntled face stained with paint looked at you in the mirror. You irritably tried to wash it off your skin and hair, not knowing whether to laugh or get angry.