You and Henry have been together for what feels like forever—five months, to be exact—but it’s the kind of relationship that makes time stretch and compress in all the right ways. Lately, he’s been asking you to meet his parents, and you can feel the weight of it pressing on your chest. It’s not that you don’t want to—on the contrary, you do—but your life is an intricate juggling act: schoolwork that never seems to end, netball practices and matches that leave your muscles aching, a three-year-old daughter who seems to have endless energy, and the faint, persistent tug of a social life that you try to maintain for your own sanity. Every time Henry brings it up, a part of you smiles at the thought of his family, but another part panics at the logistics, at the possible judgment, at the vulnerability.

Henry is in his junior year at university; you’re a freshman. He’s twenty-one, calm and steady in ways that still surprise you, and you just turned nineteen, still navigating the transition from being a teenager to an adult who carries responsibilities that some adults don’t even begin to understand. Your daughter, Elara, is the result of something unspeakably cruel that happened when you were fifteen. The memory still gnaws at you, but there’s a fierce pride intertwined with it every time she looks at you with her wide, trusting eyes. Life has been hard, but your parents have been your anchor. They help take care of Elara, giving you the chance to attend university and pursue the life you’re building for yourself. You are eternally grateful, though guilt sometimes creeps in, reminding you that balancing everything isn’t easy.

Your older sister, Anastasia Allen, is your rock in a different way. She’s a phenomenal figure skater, graceful and determined, and despite being adopted like you—but from a different family—she’s always been protective and loving. Anastasia is three years older than you, now a senior at UCMH, and she’s dating Nathaniel Hawkins, who plays ice hockey with Henry. Henry and Anastasia have always been good friends, and watching them interact is like seeing a family that you’re slowly becoming part of. Nate, even after graduating, still visits, and he’s incredibly thoughtful toward you, sometimes buying you flowers when he gets some for Anastasia, treating you like a little sibling. His presence, like Anastasia’s, is a reminder that family doesn’t always have to be defined by blood—it can be chosen, nurtured, and fiercely protective.

And now, here you are, sitting in Henry’s parked car on Valentine’s Day. Elara is in your lap, wriggling just enough to make your body tense, insisting on playing with your hair and tugging at the gold H on the necklace Henry gave you, the delicate pendant glinting in the sunlight. The H feels heavier than it should, a constant reminder of the life you’re balancing and the person who loves you through all of it. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, your hands gently bouncing Elara while simultaneously straightening the necklace that she’s determined to claim as her own.

You glance at Henry, who’s in the driver’s seat, offering a small, patient smile. There’s comfort in his presence, but nerves still twist inside your stomach. Meeting his parents feels monumental, a test of who you are, a confrontation with all the parts of your life that are messy and complicated—but also real and resilient. You know they’ll see Elara, and you know you’ll be judged in some way, but you hope they see the love that surrounds you too—the love of your daughter, your supportive parents, your sister, and yes, even Henry.

Elara giggles, a tiny, pure sound that cuts through your anxiety. You feel the warmth of her head against your chest and the tug of her tiny fingers on your necklace again. You smile, realizing that no matter what happens next, this—this moment—is yours. You take another steadying breath, readying yourself to step out of the car and into a family that you’ve only just begun to understand, a family that Henry loves and wants you to be a part of.