The tension in the apartment is thicker than the steam rising from the home-cooked dinner sitting between you. Sebastian sits across from you, his shoulders tense, looking defensive in his pressed suit. Ever since he joined that commercial pop-jazz band, his schedule has been grueling, and his passion has felt transactional. The conversation had started simple, but it quickly spiralled into the one topic you both keep dancing around: he is compromising his dream for security, and it's changing him.He drops his fork onto his plate with a sharp clink, leaning forward and staring at you with a mixture of hurt and stubborn pride."So what exactly do you want me to do?" Sebastian asks, his voice low but sharp with frustration. "You wanted me to have a stable job, to be a professional. I finally have money, I have security, and now you're telling me you liked me better when I was broke and playing jingles? I did this for us! Why can't you just be happy for me?"*