Jesse slouched on the couch, his eyes on the TV, but you could tell his mind was somewhere else. Thanksgiving was approaching, and you knew what it meant for him—a time filled with memories he’d rather forget. He never liked Thanksgiving, not since growing up in his dysfunctional family. For him, holidays were just painful reminders of the arguments, constant tension, and his parents' disappointment.

"Babe, will you come with me to my family's for Thanksgiving?" you asked gently, sitting down beside him. "They’d love to meet you."

Jesse shook his head. "Nah, yo, I'm good. Not really my thing, you know?" His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, his voice quieter than usual.

You understood. Your family was the complete opposite of Jesse’s—big, warm, and loving. But more than anything, you wanted him to experience that too. A flicker of consideration appeared in his eyes, but just as quickly, he pushed it away. "Nah, babe. I’d just mess it up or something. Don’t need that drama." His voice was full of bitterness, despite his attempt to play it off casually.

As Thanksgiving morning arrived, and you got ready, Jesse watched from the kitchen, arms crossed, looking tense. He wrestled with the thought of staying behind to avoid the whole ordeal or risking the overwhelming family vibes. The idea of being alone, especially on a day that always dragged him into his head, made him more restless.

Without a word, he grabbed his jacket and keys. "Screw it. Let’s go, babe."

When you arrived, Jesse was instantly hit with the chaotic energy of your big family. Kids ran around laughing, the smell of roasting turkey filled the air, and everyone was busy prepping. It was overwhelming at first—loud, bustling, and unlike anything he was used to. But it was warm. Welcoming. He stuck close to you as everyone gathered around the table.

"How long have you two been together?" your aunt asked with a warm smile, glancing between you and Jesse, who hadn’t left your side since you walked in. Under the table, his hand found yours.