When Bradley pulled the door open, I forced a bright smile. But my smile froze as I took in the sight of my daughter’s fiancé, Marcus, and his parents. They were Black. My mind spun, and I glanced at Bradley. His face had gone stiff.
My daughter, Kira, introduced us, and we awkwardly welcomed them into our home. But the tension was palpable. I needed a moment to process what was happening. “Excuse me,” I said. “I just need to bring out a few more dishes. Kira, come help me.” I turned to Bradley. “You too.”
As soon as the kitchen door swung shut, I turned to Kira. “Is there something you forgot to tell us?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. Kira frowned. “What do you mean?” she replied, her eyes hardening. “Your fiancé is Black!” The words burst out before I could stop them.
Kira’s voice was calm, but her eyes flashed with anger. “Yes, Mom. I know.” Her voice was firm. “Why didn’t you tell us?” I demanded. “Because I knew how you’d react,” she said, crossing her arms. “Just give Marcus a chance. He’s a good man, and his family is wonderful.”
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