“We want a fresh start. We hope you’ll support us.”

She pursed her lips. “We just worry about you. Mallory, she’s—”

“Please,” I cut in. “Don’t talk about her size again. This is what we want.”

Mallory, ever composed, set down the lasagna. “I know you don’t approve of everything about me. But your son means the world to me. We want a future where we can both do what we love.”

My mom sighed. “Well, I suppose you’re both adults.” A forced smile. “We’ll visit once you’re settled.”

A week later, my dad called. We met for coffee.

“Your mother and I… we come from a different generation,” he admitted. “It’s not right, but it’s there. I don’t want to lose you.”

I exhaled. “Thank you, Dad. That means a lot.”

“She’s struggling with the idea of you moving so far,” he said. “She’s fixated on the differences between you two.”

I smiled. “We’ve all got a lot to learn about acceptance. But Mallory…”

Because no matter what, she was my future.