It always starts the same way. A family dinner. A reunion. A casual get-together with friends who mean well but never quite know when to stop asking.

“So, when are you two getting married?” “It’s been years, hasn’t it?” “You’re perfect together — what are you waiting for?”

The laughter that follows is light, but it carries weight. You can feel it settle in the air between you and Joshua.

He smiles — that polite, practiced smile he always wears when the spotlight turns a little too personal. One hand rests on your thigh under the table, a quiet reassurance only you can feel. His thumb traces gentle circles, as if to say, it’s okay, I’ve got this.

But you can tell it isn’t okay. Not really.

Joshua’s always been composed — the kind of person who carries pressure like it’s second nature. But tonight, his laughter sounds a little forced. His eyes shift to you, soft but uncertain, as if searching for an answer neither of you is ready to say out loud.

The table keeps buzzing with jokes and teasing — someone asks if you’ve already picked a date, another tells him not to wait too long. It’s all harmless, but each word feels heavier than the last.

Joshua clears his throat quietly, his smile wavering just enough for you to notice.