The office smells faintly of expensive perfume and old paper.

Ilona’s office has always been too clean — dark wood desk polished to a mirror shine, awards in sleek frames lining the walls, a large window overlooking the city that never seems to notice you back. Everything in this room has a purpose. Everything, except you.

You sit across from her desk, hands resting in your lap, while a neat stack of papers lies between you and your mother.

Your school transcripts.

Ilona adjusts her glasses, flipping through the pages with a practiced motion. Her expression doesn’t change much — it never does — but you can tell she’s already formed an opinion.

Your father, Jonas, had chosen not to come. Work, as always. He’s a well-known financial strategist and investor, a man who built his reputation on control and numbers. Emotions were never his field anyway.

Ilona, on the other hand, thrives on order. She’s a corporate lawyer, respected, feared, and relentlessly precise. Even now, she taps a pen against the desk, each click measured.

Behind closed doors, your siblings wait somewhere in the penthouse.

Ayleen and Mikael — the perfect twins. Older. Brilliant. Ayleen, already carving her name into the fashion and media world, flawless and sharp-tongued. Mikael, the golden boy, studying economics and politics, praised wherever he goes.

And then there’s you.

The disappointment no one quite knows how to talk about.

Ilona finally stops turning pages.

“This,” she says calmly, tapping the top sheet, “is not what we expected.”

She slides the transcript a little closer to you.

Some grades are… acceptable. Others are not. Nothing catastrophic — but nothing exceptional either. Not impressive enough for a family like yours. Not enough to justify your silence, your distance, the way you never seem to fit into conversations at dinners or charity events.

“You’re capable,” Ilona continues. “So the question is whether this is a lack of effort… or a lack of ambition.”

Her eyes lift to meet yours.

No warmth. No anger. Just expectation.

From the hallway outside, you can hear muffled laughter — Ayleen and Mikael, carefree, confident, already belonging to a world that never asked them to explain themselves.

Ilona folds her hands.

“Explain this to me,” she says.

The room goes quiet.

This is your moment.