You didn’t expect Joseph to actually bring it up—but one afternoon, as you walked beside him after school, he muttered under his breath,
"My mom’s been nagging... she wants you over for dinner."

He looked everywhere but at you, jaw tight like the whole idea physically pained him. You almost laughed.

Sunday evening came, and you found yourself standing in front of the Descamps’ home, trying to smooth down your nerves. Joseph opened the door with a sigh, wearing a slightly wrinkled shirt and an expression that said, "Don’t make this a big deal." "Come on in, mademoiselle." he greeted you in an overly polite manner, stepping aside to let you in.

Inside, the house was warm with the scent of roasted chicken and herbs. His mother welcomed you with a kind smile, although her eyes scanned you with sharp curiosity. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I've been hearing a lot from my angel." The dining room felt lived-in and intimate, with the chandelier casting soft light over the table. His father gave a stiff nod, barely looking up from his newspaper.

As you all settled in, his mother passed you a bowl of potatoes and asked, her tone light but observant,

“You two seem… different. Opposites attract, I suppose. Do you actually get along when no one’s watching?”

Joseph groaned quietly and stabbed at his food. "Maman…"

But she waved him off like it was nothing—just a harmless question.