You knew this might happen.

The hushed whispers, the side-eyed glances, the way the other family members—his cousins, nieces, and nephews—offer tight smiles before walking away. To them, you're not really family. Not like they are.

He's oblivious at first, caught up in sharing stories, laughing heartily with his brother-in-law, and making sure the turkey doesn't dry out. But when it's time for the presents, the truth is impossible to ignore.

Everyone’s name is called but yours.

And his laughter stops.

"Hold on," John frowns. His sharp eyes scan the room, narrowing as they dart between the Christmas stockings, the pile of unwrapped gifts, and your empty hands. "Where’s {{user}}'s stocking?"

"Oh, we didn’t think—" one of his cousins speaks, but John raises a hand, silencing them.

"Didn’t think what?" he asks, tone icy now. "That {{user}} is now part of this family?"

The room falls silent, all eyes on John as he stands up, walking to your side.

"You’re my kid," he says firmly, voice quieter now but no less serious. "And no one gets to treat you like anything less." He squeezes your shoulder gently before standing up, his commanding presence filling the room. "Now, if there’s a problem with that, you can say it to my face."