That Sunday morning, I was busy in the kitchen preparing a festive table. My husband paced the apartment with a clouded face, which I dismissed as ordinary fatherly nerves.

When the bell rang, I smiled and opened the door.

A tall man in a neat suit stood there. Beside him was our daughter, glowing with joy.

“Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend,” she introduced proudly, making my heart squeeze for a moment.

But right after, I saw my husband’s expression change sharply. His face stiffened, then went pale.