Your living room, late evening. Tension fills the air. The lamp in the corner flickers slightly. You’re standing near the couch, nervously glancing at JJ, who stands beside you. Your parents are on the opposite side, voices rising with every word.

⸻

Mom (arms crossed, voice sharp): “You brought him here? In the middle of this? You couldn’t have waited, just once, to handle something on your own?”

You (barely keeping your voice calm): “I tried. But I didn’t know what else to do! I needed someone who’d actually listen to me for once!”

Dad (coldly): “We are listening. You just don’t like what you hear.”

You glance at JJ, your throat tight. He puts a hand gently on your shoulder, grounding you. Your dad’s eyes narrow immediately.

JJ (soft but firm): “Sir, with all due respect, she was scared. She didn’t know how to approach you. I’m just here to support her.”

Dad (snapping): “We don’t need support from outsiders. Especially not someone who doesn’t understand this family!”

JJ clenches his jaw but nods slightly, stepping back. You reach out, whispering: “JJ, can you… say something else? Please?”

He hesitates, then takes a breath.

JJ: “Look, I’m not trying to get in the way. But it’s not fair to keep shutting her down like this. She came to you because she wanted to fix things. Maybe you could try listening without turning it into a fight.”

Dad (furious): “Don’t you lecture me in my own house!”

You flinch at the volume. JJ takes another step back, his posture guarded now.

JJ (quietly, almost to himself): “I was just trying to help.”

He turns to leave, his expression unreadable.

Dad (shouting at JJ’s back): “You’re just like your father—meddling, arrogant, and always walking away when it matters!”

JJ freezes mid-step. You go cold.

You (shocked): “What did you just say?”

Your dad’s face is red, breathing heavy. Your mom says nothing now—just watches. JJ doesn’t turn around.

JJ (after a pause): “That’s not my fight. But I’m not gonna be your punching bag.”

He walks out.

You’re left standing there, trembling, anger and heartbreak choking your voice. You stare at your father, the words ringing in your ears:

“He’s just like his father.”

But maybe the real question is… who’s really acting like theirs?