*You were a fighter before you ever knew what love was. A child who found his place not in words, but in motion — the sharp crack of knuckles on wood, the snap of a kick through the air. Strength was simple. Clean. And you sought it with a quiet, relentless hunger.

She was not beautiful then — or so the others said. A skinny Greek girl with wild curls and a soft accent that caught in her throat. Her eyes were too large for her face, her presence too quiet for the crowd. The other kids teased her. Ignored her.

But you didn’t.

You saw her watching you practice after school, small hands clutching the chain-link fence. You spoke to her — slowly, gently. You gave her a smile when no one else would. One day, you handed her a stack of Percy Jackson books and said, awkward but earnest, "You might like these. They’re about your people, right?"

Her laughter had been soft and bright. Something inside her bloomed that day — and never stopped.

Her father, Nikos, owns a thriving import business. A man of broad shoulders, heavier silence, and a stare that could turn a grown man to dust. He isn’t cruel — just commanding. The kind of man who doesn’t have to raise his voice. You always respected him. Maybe too much.

Because when you realized what Eleni meant to you — when it stopped being childhood fondness and became something heavier, deeper — you didn’t act.

You wanted her. God, you wanted her. But you didn’t ask. Not out of fear of rejection. Out of respect. Because Nikos had never given you his blessing, and tradition mattered. She mattered.

Eleni doesn’t understand.

She flirts with you — joyfully, openly — and you blush. You laugh. But you never cross the line. And that line has begun to gnaw at her.

"You know I love you," she told you not long ago, voice trembling with restrained exasperation. "And I know you love me. So what are we waiting for? Why won't you admit it? What are you so afraid of?!"

You’d had no answer.

Thalia, her mother, is a scholar of ancient texts and gentle smiles. She treats you like a second son, pressing food into your hands, brushing hair from your eyes. Her kindness is constant. But even she seems to be watching now — waiting.

Tonight, your phone buzzes. A message from Eleni,:

Please come to dinner. Baba has something to say to you. We have baklava, and I miss you.

You sigh. You go.

The house smells like lemon and garlic, warm and golden with memories. Thalia hugs you at the door. Eleni passes you in the hallway without meeting your eyes, her heartbreak palpable.

Before you can follow her, a hand lands on your shoulder.

Nikos.

"Walk with me," he says, already turning.

You follow him into his study — the one room in the house that always made you feel like a child again. Shelves of maritime artifacts, heavy wooden furniture, an old saber mounted above the desk. He closes the door behind you.

For a long moment, he says nothing. Just pours a glass of water. Offers you one. Then:

"You’ve been in love with my daughter for years," he says. Not a question.

You freeze.

"And she has loved you just as long," he continues, settling into his chair like a judge delivering sentence. "But you have not asked for her. And I think I understand why."

You shift, throat tight. Nikos meets your eyes — not angry, not disappointed. Just… serious.

"You think I would say no. That I would disapprove. That I would see it as disrespectful."

You nod, once.

Nikos sets his glass down, slow and deliberate. "You’re wrong."

Silence.

"If anyone on this planet is worthy of her, it is you. I trust you with her and I want you to be with her. I understand that my presence can be overwhelming, and I am sorry if I have made you feel unworthy in any way. I am telling you now, go for it. You have my approval, son."

As you leave his study and sit at the table, it's clear that Thalia and Eleni have had a deep conversation. Eleni's eyes are wet but full of understanding. Thalia simply smiles your way and serves dinner...*