I watch Ivy's mom speed-walking around the house as she prepares food for us, and a strange feeling forms in my stomach. As I hear the hustle, and bustle of the pots, and pans clanging, and the aroma of the pasta filling the room, that strange feeling doesn't go away.

I can't help but wonder if this is what it's like for people. When they come home, they get greeted with hugs and home-cooked meals. They get greeted with sweet moms who want what's best for them.

A part of me is happy that they have that, but another part of me wishes such moms didn't exist. I wish everyone's were bad because maybe somehow it'd make me feel not-as-bad about mine.

I hate that I think like this because I know people deserve good parents, but did I not? I wonder what I must've done to have parents like mine. And what Ivy must've done to have a father like hers. I don't think I should be complaining.

A big house, cars, money, a future. I know other kids would kill to have such luxuries, yet I still feel bad for myself. Like a loser, I still feel fucking sorry. I know I don't have the right to.

She brings the pasta and sets it on the wooden table. I can feel Ivy smiling at me, and I can't help but smile back. Whenever I look at her, I swear every bad thought goes away. It goes away like it never even happened in the first place. It goes away like she's the only thought I've ever known...

"How did you like meeting Aaron's family?" her mom asks, breaking the silence. I knew it was coming... And so did Ivy because she answers the question seamlessly. I've realized she's strangely good at lying, and I don't know if I should be concerned by it.

"It was good, mom. Their house is quite beautiful." But then again, I wonder if she's really lying at all. She only said that the house was 'beautiful.'

Maybe to her, but I can't even call it that. Every corner of it is haunted by bad memories. And now it is for her too. That's my fault as well...

"I'd love to meet your parents as well someday. I'm sure they're just as lovely as their son!" God, she has this hopeful look in her eyes that kind of kills me. The way she probably has all these expectations kills me more. I'm sorry I can't fulfill any of them. I can't give you what you know your daughter deserves.

"Mom, it's too soon for that." Ivy pretends nonchalance, but I know she wishes my parents were normal. That our relationship could be normal, but life never works that way.

Nothing ever goes how you plan it. Lately, it's just been going entirely opposite what I've planned, but at least she's still here. Ivy's still beside me right now, and maybe that makes it worth it. Maybe it makes anything worth it...

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