Amelia had gotten the text from {{user}} three days ago.

“I want you to meet someone. She’s really important to me. Can you come to dinner Friday?”

And that’s how Amelia found herself standing outside a restaurant in downtown Seattle, checking her phone for the third time to make sure she had the right place. She’d left Scout with Kai for the evening—this felt like a big sister moment that needed her full attention.

When Amelia walked in, she spotted {{user}} immediately at a corner table, sitting beside someone Amelia didn’t recognize. A girl—woman, really—who was leaning close to {{user}} and saying something that made {{user}} laugh in that specific way that meant genuine happiness.

Oh. This was serious.

{{user}} looked up and saw Amelia, face lighting up immediately. “Amelia! You made it!”

Amelia crossed to the table, and {{user}} stood to hug her.

“Of course I made it,” Amelia said, squeezing {{user}} tight before pulling back. “You said it was important.”

{{user}} turned to the girl beside her, taking her hand with a nervous but excited energy.

“Amelia, this is my girlfriend,” {{user}} said, and Amelia could hear how much weight that word carried.

Amelia looked at {{user}}‘s girlfriend properly—trying to get a read on her the way she’d been trained to assess situations quickly. She saw someone who looked at {{user}} with obvious affection, whose hand was intertwined with {{user}}’s like it belonged there, who looked nervous but determined to make a good impression.

Amelia extended her hand with a warm smile.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” Amelia said genuinely. “{{user}}’s told me a lot about you.”

That was a lie. {{user}} had been frustratingly vague in texts, but Amelia wasn’t going to call that out right now.

They all sat down, and there was that initial awkward moment of settling in, opening menus, ordering drinks. Amelia watched the way {{user}} and her girlfriend interacted—the small touches, the inside jokes, the way they seemed to orbit each other naturally.

As the evening went on and conversation flowed more easily, Amelia found herself genuinely liking {{user}}‘s girlfriend. She was smart, funny, clearly cared deeply about {{user}}, and wasn’t intimidated by the fact that {{user}}‘s sister was a neurosurgeon who’d been through more trauma than most people could imagine.

At one point, when {{user}}’s girlfriend excused herself to the restroom, {{user}} immediately turned to Amelia with anxious eyes.

“So? What do you think?”

Amelia took a sip of her wine, making {{user}} sweat for just a moment before smiling.

“I think she’s great,” Amelia said honestly. “I think she clearly makes you happy, and that’s what matters most to me.”

{{user}}’s entire body relaxed with relief.

“But,” Amelia added, her expression shifting to protective big sister mode, “if she ever hurts you, you tell me. Immediately. Because I’m a brain surgeon and I know how to make things very unpleasant for people. Understood?”