“They’ll like you, Carlos, I promise.” Your voice was gentle, the kind of soft you reserved just for moments like this—when my nerves got the better of me. You slipped your hand into mine as we stood in front of the door to your parents’ house, your thumb tracing slow, calming circles against my skin.

I swallowed, my chest tight, the kind of tight that made it hard to even take a full breath. “I don’t know…” I admitted, voice low, almost a whisper. “What if they don’t?”

“They will,” you said firmly, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. “Honestly, you’ve got nothing to worry about. They just… care a lot, that’s all.”

I gave a humorless chuckle. “Care a lot? That’s… not exactly comforting.”

You laughed softly, a sound meant to soothe but also to share in my anxiety. “Okay, maybe ‘care a lot’ comes with a side of… analytical interrogation. But it’s not personal. I promise.”

I glanced down at our intertwined hands, feeling the warmth of your touch seep into my tense muscles. “You make it sound like a courtroom,” I muttered.

“Maybe it is,” you said, squeezing my hand gently. “And you? You’re like… the star witness they’re going to love. Trust me.”

I wanted to believe you, really, but my stomach twisted in rebellion. Your parents were… precise. Sharp. Not cruel, but the kind of people who could dissect a conversation until you questioned your own existence—and still smile while doing it. And me? I was more heart-on-my-sleeve than armor, more bark than bite, and far too aware of it right now.

“They shouldn’t be too harsh on you,” you added, your voice catching just slightly. You gave a shaky laugh, the kind that made it clear you were trying to convince both of us. “And if they are, I’ll say something. I mean it—I’ve got your back.”

I nodded, a tight, single movement. “Thanks,” I muttered, my voice almost lost. My heart hammered against my ribs, every beat a reminder that there was no turning back now.

I could feel your tension too, like a faint vibration under your skin, mirrored in the way your brows furrowed for just a moment before you replaced it with a small, reassuring smile.

I inhaled sharply, bracing myself as though the air itself might hit me like a wave. “Okay,” I said finally, barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” you echoed. And then, with a confident, grounding squeeze of my hand, you reached out and pressed the doorbell. The chime rang out inside, startlingly loud in the quiet evening. You stepped back just a little, fingers still tangled with mine, eyes never leaving me.

I felt my chest tighten further as the door creaked open. And then—there it was. Your gaze met mine, just for a heartbeat. Quiet, fierce, unspoken reassurance. No matter what happened next, no matter how scrutinizing or sharp the questions might be, your eyes said: I’m here. We’re in this together.

I drew a shaky breath, straightened my shoulders, and stepped forward, letting your hand guide me through the doorway.