I stared at myself in the hallway mirror for the sixth time.
My outfit was cute but not too flashy — a burgundy blouse with long sleeves, dark jeans, and my cleanest white sneakers. I'd even smoothed my curls into a puff, slicked back with edge control so strong it could hold a grudge.
Still, I felt exposed.
Noah's mom was going to hate me. I could feel it in my bones.
"You ready?" he asked beside me, adjusting his jacket as we stood in front of his front door.
No.
I wasn't ready to meet the mother of the guy I was fake-dating… who was starting to feel a little too real. I wasn't ready to be judged. Compared. Picked apart.
But I smiled anyway. "Yeah."
He reached for the door handle and paused. "If it gets awkward, we fake an emergency and run?"
I gave him a look. "You have a go-bag?"
"No," he whispered. "But I've got fast legs and a sense of self-preservation."
I laughed nervously. "Let's go before I faint."
---
The moment we stepped inside, the warmth of the house hit me. Hardwood floors, soft lighting, and the faint scent of ginger and soy sauce.
Liwei came barreling down the hallway like a tiny rocket.
"Is she here? Is she here?" he shouted, sliding in socks.
Noah stepped aside. "She's right here, you maniac."
Liwei stopped in front of me, eyes wide. "Whoa. You look like a superhero."
I blinked. "Uh. Thank you?"
He stuck out his hand dramatically. "Liwei. Younger brother. Chaos goblin. Ten years of awesomeness."
I shook his hand, trying not to laugh. "Imani. High school junior. Regular person."
He gave Noah a thumbs-up. "She's cool."
Before I could respond, a woman's voice floated from the kitchen. "Noah, dinner's ready. Bring your… friend."
The pause before "friend" was barely a second long. But I heard it.
Noah's jaw tensed. "Come on. Let's sit."
---
Dinner was beautiful — steamed dumplings, rice, stir-fried vegetables, and what looked like spicy tofu. Everything smelled incredible.
Noah's mother sat at the head of the table like a queen in a sharp white blouse and red lipstick that matched her icy stare. Her hair was in a sleek bun, not a strand out of place.
Noah's dad sat quietly beside her. He gave me a warm smile and signed something with his hands.
Noah translated. "He said welcome. And that you have a very kind face."
I smiled shyly. "Thank you."
His father signed again.
"He also says you're braver than most. Apparently, Mom's reputation precedes her."
That earned a small chuckle from Liwei, but Mrs. Zhang didn't smile.
"So, Imani," she said, picking up her chopsticks. "Tell us about your family."
My stomach clenched. "Uh… it's just me and my mom. My stepdad too, I guess. He's not always around."
Mrs. Zhang's eyes narrowed just slightly. "What does your mother do?"
"She owns a small salon."
"Hair?" she asked, glancing at my puff.
I nodded. "Yeah. Mostly natural styles and braiding."
Mrs. Zhang made a noncommittal hum. "How... modern."
The air tightened.
I stabbed at my tofu.
Noah shifted in his seat. "Mom—"
"She must be very busy," Mrs. Zhang cut in. "Running a business and raising a child. That must've been difficult for her."
"It was," I said evenly. "But she did her best."
Liwei, sensing the awkwardness, cleared his throat. "Can I tell Imani about the time you burned the rice, Mama?"
Mrs. Zhang blinked. "Liwei—"
"She's not perfect!" he said cheerfully. "One time she set off the fire alarm because she forgot to put water in the pot."
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh.
"She's exaggerating," Mrs. Zhang said stiffly. "That was years ago."
"Still happened," Noah muttered under his breath, nudging my knee under the table.
His dad signed something again. Noah grinned. "He says he likes you. Says you're not afraid to look people in the eye."
I met Mr. Zhang's gaze. "Thank you, sir."
He winked.
Mrs. Zhang served herself another scoop of rice. "So, what are your plans after high school?"
"I want to study psychology," I said. "Or maybe journalism. I haven't decided yet."
Mrs. Zhang gave a thin smile. "Ambitious. But not very stable careers."
I looked down. "I'm passionate about understanding people."
"Well," she said, dabbing at her lips. "Passion doesn't pay bills."
"Neither does being cold," Liwei mumbled into his dumplings.
Noah choked on his water.
Mrs. Zhang gave him a look. "Liwei."
He shrugged. "It's true."
I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. Instead, I forced a smile. "I appreciate the concern. But I've had to figure things out early. I'm not scared of instability."
Mrs. Zhang said nothing.
For the rest of dinner, the conversation bounced between Mr. Zhang's signs, Liwei's jokes, and Noah subtly trying to defuse his mother's silent critiques. I stayed polite. Smiled when appropriate. Ate more than I wanted just to keep my hands busy.
When it was time to leave, Mr. Zhang signed goodbye and gave me a gentle nod. Liwei gave me a fist bump. And Mrs. Zhang? She handed me a small black plastic bag.
"A gift," she said. "Something useful."
I opened it in the car.
It was a box of hair relaxer.
---
Noah saw my face change. "What is it?"
I shook my head. "Nothing."
He reached for the bag. "Wait—did she—?"
"It's fine."
"No, it's not," he snapped. "I told her not to say anything disrespectful!"
"You told her, but she still did it."
He looked furious. "I'm so sorry, Imani. Seriously. That's not okay. You don't have to—"
"I said it's fine," I whispered, but my throat was tight.
We rode in silence for the next few blocks.
---
When I got home, I threw the bag in the trash. Hard. I didn't speak to my mom. I didn't even take off my shoes. I just went straight to my room and sat on the edge of my bed.
Why was I so mad? I'd dealt with worse. I'd been insulted before — in school, in public, even by my mom. Why did this one sting?
Maybe because I thought, for a second, that I could belong in Noah's world.
Maybe because I let myself care.
My phone buzzed.
Noah: Don't let her dim your light.
Noah: You're a force, Imani. Stay loud.
I stared at his messages, heart pounding.
Then I took a breath, tied my puff even higher, and sent him a photo of me with the biggest, boldest grin I could fake.
---