So here’s how the last Sunday dinner went down. I brought my fiancée, Mallory, over to meet my parents officially. She’s tall, broad-shouldered, platinum blonde, and yeah—she’s not a size two. But Mallory’s the warmest, sharpest, most loyal person I’ve ever met. She lights up every room she walks into, even if she doesn’t fit into whatever narrow box people expect.

At dinner, things got tense. My mom kept giving her tight smiles, and my dad asked if she played basketball. “No,” Mallory laughed. “But I do make a killer lasagna.” They both blinked like they didn’t know what to do with that.Later, my mom cornered me in the kitchen. She whispered, “She’s… different.” I said, “Yeah. She’s incredible.”

Mallory handled it all with grace. She laughed when things got awkward and complimented my mom’s cooking even when the vibe was off.
On the drive home, Mallory squeezed my hand and said, “That went well, right?” And honestly, it did—because we were a team.
“She lights up every room she walks into.” And I wouldn’t change a thing about her.