The Imperfect Daughter

“Babe, are you sure this is a good idea?” Michael asked for what felt like the tenth time as we wheeled our suitcases into the hotel room.

“Yes, baby. We should stay here,” I said, forcing a smile to calm him. I leaned in for a quick kiss just enough to distract him from asking again.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching me with that mixture of curiosity and concern he’d been wearing since we landed. “I mean… how much do your parents hate you that they can’t even welcome their long-lost daughter home?”

I turned away, feigning interest in lining up our toiletries in the bathroom cabinet. “I told Marina not to tell them I’m coming home.”

“So it’s a surprise?” he asked, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, they’ll be surprised all right,” I muttered, shutting the cabinet a little harder than necessary.

“Very much, sugar,” he teased, coming over to wrap his arms around my waist. “Now stop avoiding me and help me unpack.”

The truth was, I didn’t want to unpack my things or my feelings. Being back in my hometown was already stirring up ghosts I’d worked hard to bury. This trip was supposed to be for my sister’s best friend’s wedding, but there was no escaping the other, heavier reason it felt so tense: my parents. As I folded clothes into the wardrobe, my eyes kept flicking to the mirror. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen when I saw them again. Would they smile? Would my mother’s eyes soften like they used to when she called me her “bright little star”? Or would they look at me like they had the last time cold, distant, like I was a stranger who’d wandered into their home by mistake?

“I know that look,” Michael murmured behind me, his voice breaking through my spiral. He stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders. “You’re overthinking.”

“I’m nervous,” I admitted, still facing the mirror. “My parents aren’t… predictable.”

He leaned down, brushing a kiss across my temple. “I’m sure they’re eager to see you, my love.” I almost laughed at his certainty. Michael didn’t know the full story, not all the cracks and fractures that had formed between us over the years. Still, part of me wanted to believe him. Maybe they’d missed me. Maybe we could put the past aside for one evening.

“Thanks, baby,” I said softly, turning to hug him.

“Let me order an Uber while you call your sister,” he offered.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Marina. She answered on the second ring. “Hey, Alyssa. Sup?”

“Just letting you know we’re ready to leave now,” I said lightly.

Silence. Then: “Alyssa… something happened.”

My stomach tightened. “What? Did they get into an accident?”

“Jesus, Alyssa! Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know just tell me what happened.”

“They found out you’re in town,” she said slowly. “They asked me, and I… I told them the truth. You know I can’t lie to them.”

I sighed. “Yeah. Perfect Daughter Syndrome strikes again.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“They said they don’t want to have dinner with you.” Her voice softened, as if that would make the words sting less.

“Oh.”

“I tried to convince them, but you know how they are. I’m sorry, Ally. How about dinner with just you and me?”

The old nickname hit me in the chest. Dad used to call me that back when things were simpler.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood, Marina. It’s been a long flight. We’re a little jetlagged.”

“We?” she repeated, her tone sharpening.

“Yeah. My boyfriend Michael and I.”

“Oh. You didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend. Can I say hi?”

I passed the phone to Michael, who took it with a practiced smile and started chatting easily with her. He was warm, polite, exactly the kind of man you’d want to introduce to your family if your family wasn’t intent on pretending you didn’t exist. I sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the carpet. Three years of silence. Three years without a birthday call, a Christmas card, or even a message asking if I was alive. And still, they’d rather cancel dinner than look me in the eye.

Michael hung up and sat beside me. “I’m sorry, Alyssa. I thought they’d be like… You know, normal parents.”

“It’s fine,” I lied. “We’ll see them at the wedding.”

“Yeah, but…” He hesitated, like he could sense there was more I wasn’t telling him.

“And I think it might not go too well there,” I admitted.

“How bad?”

“On a scale of one to ten?” I paused. “Eleven.”

His eyebrows rose. “Jesus. If they’re that bad, maybe I shouldn’t go with you. I don’t want to make things worse.”

“We’ll avoid them,” I said quickly. “Sit at the back, away from familiar eyes.”

“Oh wow. That’s… one way to do it.”

“We can make a game of it,” I offered, trying to inject some lightness. “Guess people’s life stories by their outfits. Keeps things fun.”

He smiled faintly, though I could see the worry lingering in his eyes. “If it keeps you positive, I’m in.” We spent the rest of the evening in the hotel, half-watching TV and half-pretending neither of us was thinking about tomorrow. But the truth lingered between us, unspoken and heavy:

Tomorrow wasn’t just a wedding.

It was a collision course with the very people I’d been running from.