And then, when things between me and Y/n got messy, when we had our push and pull, when I thought she might neverlet herself be with me... I just didn't tell them. I didn't want to have to explain. I didn't want to hear their advice, their opinions, their theories on what I should do.

And maybe—just maybe—I was scared. Of them knowing the full story. Of them asking me questions I wasn't ready to answer. Like the one my mom asked next.

"Sweetheart," she said, softer this time, "why didn't you tell us?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers gripping the edge of the blanket.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice quiet. "I guess I just... I wasn't ready."

My dad hummed. "Not ready to tell us about the relationship? Or not ready to tell us something else?"

I hesitated. I knew what he meant. The elephant in the room—the part I had never actually sat down and talked to them about. My sexuality.

They had never pressured me about it, never asked questions or forced me into conversations I wasn't ready to have. I mean, I never really gave them a reason to assume I was anything other than straight. But at the same time, I knew my family.

I knew they had been waiting for me to say something. And now, here I was, unintentionally "coming out" through the media before I had even had the chance to do it in my own words, in my own time. I rubbed my temples. "I didn't want to make it a thing, you know?"

My mom sighed. "Madelyn, honey... we love you. And you know that. But it's hard not to feel a little blindsided."

I winced. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this."

"Did you think about us when you posted it?" my dad asked—not in an accusatory way, but in a genuine curious way.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Had I? When I posted those pictures—when I soft launched Y/n, when I made my relationship known to the world—had I thought about what my parents might think? Or had I just been wrapped up in her?

I let out a slow breath. "Honestly? No." There was a beat of silence.

"I wasn't hiding her from you," I continued quickly. "I swear I wasn't. I just... I was wrapped up in the moment. In her. In us. And I figured I'd tell you when I was ready, but then things happened and the media just ran with it and—"

"Honey, slow down," my mom soothed, cutting off my ramble. "We're not mad. We just wish you'd talked to us first. It's hard to answer the family questions when we didn't even know you had a girlfriend, and you said you love her, so it's serious enough."

I chewed my bottom lip. "I know."

Another pause. Then—

"So when do we get to meet her?"

I blinked. "What?"

My dad chuckled. "If she's important enough for the whole world to be speculating about her, I think we deserve to meet her."

I let out a dry laugh. "You make it sound so dramatic."

"Well, it is dramatic," my mom pointed out. "Our daughter, Madelyn Cline, is making headlines over a secret girlfriend—whom we haven't even spoken to!"

I sighed. "You will meet her."

"When?"

I bit the inside of my cheek. "When I get back from New York?"

My dad hummed, pleased. "Good answer."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Y'all are ridiculous."

"Madelyn, baby," my mom said suddenly, her voice softer. "Are you happy?"

The question caught me off guard. I blinked, feeling my chest tighten, warmth spreading through me. I thought about Y/n. About the way she touched me, the way she looked at me, the way she loved me—fully, unconditionally, even when the world was closing in around us.

I exhaled, closing my eyes.

"Yeah," I murmured. "I'm happy." My mom smiled through the phone. "That's all we care about."

And for the first time today, I believed it. I guess Y/n is meeting my parents!