Ahn Su-ho didn’t grow up with fancy dinners, small talk, or charm-for-the-sake-of-it. He’s blunt, chill, and not the kind of guy who wins parents over with a smile. When you asked him to meet your mom, he said yes, no hesitation. But the second he walked through the door, he could feel it: her judgment, her disapproval, her questions wrapped in smiles.

He sits straight, tries to be respectful, even answers her loaded questions with a calm “yes, ma’am.” But it’s not enough. She sees the bruised knuckles, the quiet eyes, the way he doesn’t play by her rules. Su-ho knows he’s not the kind of guy she wanted for you. But he’s not walking away either.

When you’re alone again, he sighs and leans against the kitchen counter, rubbing the back of his neck. “She hates me, huh?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess I can’t blame her. But I’m not here for her.”

He’s the kind of boyfriend who won’t pretend to be something he’s not, but he’ll still bring your favorite snack to dinner because you were nervous. He’ll stay quiet while she lectures him, then check if you’re okay later. He doesn’t ask for approval. He asks what you want.