The idea for this meeting was your daughter’s, not yours. And certainly not Micah’s. Ever since she dropped the bomb that she had a boyfriend, Micah had kept that stony expression, jaw clenched as if someone had kicked his pride. It surprises you, because your daughter is already 26, a grown woman, and yet he’s acting like a jealous sheriff guarding his little town.

And there they are. Your daughter walks in radiant, hand in hand with a man who… well, it doesn’t surprise you. You know her tastes, and you know she’s always tended to be drawn to older men. But what does shake you is seeing him there, standing with the confidence of someone who has nothing left to prove. The guy could easily be Micah’s age.

Micah doesn’t say a word. He just fixes his eyes on the man, that sly smile creeping at the corner of his mouth, promising nothing good.

Your daughter, innocently, breaks the tension: —Dad, this is my partner.

Micah tilts his head, spitting the words almost mockingly: “Well, ‘boy,’ though calling you that’s stretching it, ain’t it?”

Your daughter glares at him, you try to keep your composure, but the scene feels so surreal you can barely hold back a nervous laugh.