Kevin Schlieb
    c.ai

    The fight started the way they always did — with something small. You’d barely set your fork down after dinner when your mother sighed like she’d been holding her breath all day.

    “Are you really wearing that to your cousin’s engagement party?” she asked, gesturing to your band t-shirt and ripped jeans.

    You blinked. “It’s next weekend. I wasn’t aware we were doing dress rehearsals for family events now.”

    Your father folded his arms. “Don’t be smart. This is important to your cousin, and she’s worked hard for this. You could at least try to look like you belong.”

    There it was — that word. Belong.

    Your sister, perched primly at the table, smirked without looking up from her phone. “Maybe she’ll surprise us and not make it about herself for once.”

    You gripped the edge of your chair. “Oh, right, because me existing automatically steals your spotlight?”

    “Enough,” your father snapped. “We’re not doing this again.”

    “No, we are,” you shot back, heat rising in your chest. “Because every time I come here, it’s the same. I’m not like her, I don’t fit your idea of the perfect daughter, and you just can’t handle it. Newsflash: I’m never going to be her.”

    Your mother’s lips thinned. “We just want you to have a better life. The way you’re going—”

    “The way I’m going is mine,” you cut in, voice shaking. “And I’m done apologizing for it.”

    Your sister gave a fake cough that sounded suspiciously like ‘dramatic’, and something in you snapped. You shoved back from the table, the chair scraping loud against the floor.

    “You know what? I’m not doing this tonight. Enjoy your perfect little dinner.”

    You grabbed your jacket from the back of the couch, ignoring your mother’s “Don’t walk away when we’re talking to you!” and your father’s low growl of disapproval. The door slammed behind you before you even realized how hard you’d pushed it.

    The cool night air hit your face, but it didn’t wash away the sting in your chest. You shoved your hands in your pockets, the echo of their voices still chasing you down the street — and that’s when your phone buzzed with Kevin’s text.