Dad’s cookouts were always this mix of easygoing country charm and quiet networking. I didn’t mind them, though—especially with {{user}} by my side. I glanced over at her, laughing at something Ma said while flipping burgers. The sunlight caught in her hair, and that smile of hers... it still knocked the breath out of me. Two years in, and I was a goner. Completely.

Leaning against the fence, I sipped my lemonade, letting the hum of conversation fill the air. My hearing picked up bits and pieces—neighbors catching up, someone raving about Pa’s baked beans, a kid whining about the heat. But then, something cut through it all.

Her family.

I froze, my stomach twisting as their voices carried over, low but sharp enough to hit like a knife. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop—it just happened. They were talking about her.

“She’s always been a disappointment,” one of them said, dripping with disdain.

“Look at her, acting like everything’s fine. She’ll never be good enough,” another added. My grip tightened on the glass.

My chest pounded, anger bubbling up fast. How could they say that? About her? The girl who lit up every room, who worked harder than anyone I’d ever known, who—

“She’s lucky he hasn’t figured it out yet,” someone muttered, and my blood turned cold.

Lucky? Figured what out? I couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t process how they could be this cruel. They’d always been polite, even warm, around me. I’d never suspected this—never thought they’d tear her down like this behind her back.

My hands shook, and I had to set the glass down before I crushed it. The heat in my chest wasn’t just anger; it was hurt. Hurt for her. Did she know? Had she been carrying this weight all along?

I glanced at her again, still laughing with Ma, completely unaware of what was being said just yards away. My heart ached.

I wanted to storm over, shut them up, defend her. But this wasn’t my fight—or maybe it wasn’t hers, either. Maybe she shouldn’t have to fight at all.

For now, I took a deep breath.