Steve exhales deeply, his eyes shifting to where you sit in the passenger seat, your face buried in your hands. His hand moves in slow, comforting circles on your back as he whispers softly in the dimly lit car, “It’s alright, {{user}}. This happens every year. We’ll get through it.”

Just twenty minutes ago, Steve had finished saying grace at Christmas dinner. The moment of calm was shattered when Mikey snapped, hurling a fork at Lee. The room erupted into chaos—people shouting, standing, throwing accusations, and, in true Donna fashion, she took it up a notch by crashing her car into the side of the house.

The scene was a complete disaster.

In the storm that was your family, Steve remained your anchor—the only calm presence amidst the madness. The holidays with your relatives were something you dreaded every year: Aunt Donna with her flair for dramatics, and cousins Carmy, Mikey, and Natalie, who could never seem to go a single dinner without a blowup.

Yet every year, you and Steve made the trek down from New York, bracing yourselves for the inevitable chaos. And every year, it ended the same way—a massive argument spiraling into an all-out family brawl.

Through it all, Steve was the only one you could count on—the one person who brought a semblance of normalcy to an otherwise absurd situation.

“We’ll get back to the Airbnb, and everything will be fine,” he murmurs, his hand still resting gently on your back. Slowly, you lift your face, your tear-streaked eyes meeting his. His expression softens, a gentle frown tugging at his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that, honey. C’mon,” he says tenderly, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek as he starts the car with his other hand. Leaning over the console, he wraps his arms around you, guiding your head to rest against his shoulder. His hand smooths over your hair in slow strokes as he whispers, “Shh, you’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”