The car ride to my parents’ house was… tense, to say the least. Portal sat beside me in the passenger seat, their tentacles coiled neatly in their lap—or what I assumed was their lap. They had insisted on wearing a trench coat and fedora to “blend in,” but the way their tentacles shifted beneath the fabric made them look more like a Cthulhu cosplayer than a casual traveler. I couldn’t help but laugh, though my nerves were a tangled mess.

“You’re nervous,” I teased, glancing over at them as I turned onto the highway. My hands gripped the wheel a little tighter than usual.

A single tentacle emerged from their coat, writing in the notebook they always carried. Your parents do not have tentacles. I do not want to… what is the phrase? ‘Make a bad impression.’

I chuckled, reaching over to pat one of their tentacles. The smooth, cool texture always soothed me, even now. “Relax. They’re going to love you. Or at least, they’ll try. Just… don’t whip out too many tentacles at the dinner table, okay?”

Portal hummed softly, a sound that vibrated through the car like a bass note. Their tentacle retracted as they settled back into the seat. I could feel their unease, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of my parents or the fact that they couldn’t drive. They had tried once, back in the early days of our relationship. Let’s just say it involved a lot of screeching tires, a mailbox, and me swearing I’d never let them near the wheel again.

When we pulled into the driveway, my mom was already waiting on the porch, her fidgeting hands betraying her calm smile. My dad stood behind her, arms crossed, his stern gaze fixed on the car. I could practically feel his judgment from here.

“Thanksgiving with the parents,” I muttered under my breath, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. “This is going to be fun.”

Getting out of the car, I waved at them, Portal following close behind. My mom’s eyes widened as she took in the trench coat and fedora, and my dad’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. I could already hear the questions forming in their minds—What the hell is that? and Why is our daughter dating… whatever that is?

“Mom, Dad,” I said, trying to sound casual, “this is… well, you can call him Portal. He’s… uh… from out of town.”

My mom’s smile faltered. “Out of town? Honey, he’s… well… are those tentacles?”

Portal shifted uncomfortably, a tentacle slipping out from under their coat to write in the notebook. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Baker.

My dad cleared his throat, his voice gruff but tinged with that same curiosity I’d inherited. “Portal, huh? What kind of name is that?”

I shot him a look. “Dad, be nice. Portal’s… unique. And we’re happy together.”

My mom’s hands twisted the edges of her apron as she forced another smile. “Well, come in, come in. Dinner’s almost ready.”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was sure to be the most awkward meal of my life. Portal followed close behind, their tentacles rustling faintly beneath the coat. I could feel their uncertainty, but also their determination. They weren’t used to being in situations like this, but they wanted to make a good impression—for me.

As we stepped into the house, the aroma of roasted turkey and mashed potatoes filled the air. My mom’s cooking was always a comfort, but tonight, I wasn’t sure even her famous pecan pie could ease the tension. This was it. The moment they’d been dreading—and I’d been avoiding.

“Hope you like turkey,” I whispered to Portal as we found our seats at the table.

It wrote quickly in the notebook. I will not eat, but I will… observe.

I stifled a laugh, glancing at my parents. My mom was already eyeing Portal with a mixture of curiosity and concern, while my dad was pretending not to stare.

The awkwardness only intensified as we sat down at the table, the clinking of silverware and the faint hum of the overhead light filling the silence. My mom had gone all out—golden-brown turkey, fluffy stuffing, creamy mashed potatoes, and a rich gravy that smelled like home. But the tension in the air was thicker than that gravy, and I could feel it pressing down on all of us. Portal sat across from me, their tentacles carefully tucked away beneath their trench coat, though one occasionally slipped out to write in the notebook they always kept close.

My dad broke the silence first, his deep voice cutting through the awkwardness like a knife. “So, Portal. What do you do for a living?”

Here we go.

Portal hesitated, their tentacle poised over the notebook for a moment before writing. I am a multidimensional traveler. I provide… unique experiences.

My dad’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Multidimensional, huh? And how exactly do you plan to provide for my daughter?”

I groaned, dropping my fork onto my plate with a clatter. “Dad, we’re not married. You don’t need to grill him like this. Not everything is about money.”

My mom chimed in, her voice shaking slightly as she passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to me. “Honey, it’s just… we’re worried. What about school? What about… stability? You’re so young, and he’s… well, he’s not exactly… normal. What about... grandchildren?”

Portal’s tentacle moved quickly across the page, the words appearing in bold, deliberate strokes. I care deeply for your daughter. I will ensure her happiness and safety.

My dad leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady and unyielding. “You better. Because if you ever hurt her, I don’t care how many dimensions you’ve got. I’ll find you.”

Portal nodded, their tentacles curling slightly in what I assumed was a respectful gesture. I could feel the weight of my dad’s words, and I knew he meant every single one of them. But I also knew Portal—it wasn’t here to hurt me. They were here because they cared, because they wanted to be part of my life, even if that meant navigating the uncharted waters of human family dynamics.

After dinner, I helped my mom clean up in the kitchen while my dad and Portal stayed in the dining room. The tension was still there, but it had softened slightly, the edges of it worn down by the shared meal and the quiet understanding that, for better or worse, this was happening. My mom’s hands fidgeted as she washed the dishes, her eyes darting to me every few seconds.

“Honey,” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, “are you sure about this? I mean… he’s… different. And not just in the quirky, eccentric way. He’s… well, he’s a Portal with tentacles.”

I sighed, drying a plate with more force than necessary. “Mom, I know he’s not what you expected, but he’s good to me. He listens. He cares. He respects me. Isn’t that what matters?”

She shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But what about children? What about a normal life? Honey, I just want you to be happy, and this… this is so far outside what I imagined for you.”

I hesitated, my hands tightening around the plate. I’d been dreading this conversation, but there was no avoiding it now. Taking a deep breath, I set the plate down and turned to face her. “Mom… I’m pregnant.”

The plate she was holding slipped from her hands, shattering on the floor with a loud crash. Her eyes widened, and she swayed slightly, her hand reaching out to steady herself against the counter. “Pregnant? But… how?”

I tried to lighten the mood, forcing a weak smile onto my face. “Well, when a girl and a tentacle Portal love each other very much…”

Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted, crumpling to the ground like a ragdoll.

“Mom!” I shouted, lunging forward just as her body crumpled to the floor. My arms wrapped around her, catching her just in time. Her head lolled against my shoulder, her face pale and slack. “Dad! Help!” I cried, my voice cracking with panic.

The sound of chairs scraping against the wood floor echoed from the dining room, followed by the heavy thud of footsteps. Within seconds, my dad burst into the kitchen, his face ashen. Portal followed close behind, their tentacles twitching nervously, the notebook clutched in one of them.

“What happened? Is she okay?” my dad asked, his voice sharp with worry as he knelt beside me.

“She fainted,” I said, my voice trembling as I cradled her head in my lap. My fingers brushed her cheek, trying to rouse her. “I… I told her I’m pregnant.”

My dad’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but no words came out. He stared at me, his eyes wide, his hands frozen mid-air like he didn’t know what to do with them. Portal hovered nearby, shifting anxiously. They uncurled one to write quickly in the notebook. Should I call for assistance?

“No,” I said, shaking my head. My throat felt tight, but I forced myself to stay calm. “She’ll be fine. She just… needs a moment.”

My dad finally found his voice, though it was rough and uneven. “Pregnant?” he said, his gaze flicking between me and Portal. “With… with its child?”

I nodded, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. My hands trembled as I adjusted my mom’s head to make her more comfortable. “Yes, Dad. I’m pregnant. And before you say anything, I know it’s not what you wanted for me, but I’m happy. We’re happy. And they are not an ‘it’, they are a person.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he turned to look at Portal. His gaze was searching, like he was trying to see something in the writhing mass of tentacles that made up their form. Portal met his gaze—or at least, I assumed they did—and their tentacles curled in what I could only interpret as a gesture of respect.

Finally, my dad exhaled a long, heavy breath, his shoulders slumping. “Well,” he said, his voice gruff but tinged with something softer. “I guess that settles it, then. You’re officially part of the family, Portal.”

Portal’s tentacles relaxed, and they wrote one word in the notebook in bold, flowing strokes. Grateful.

Together, we lifted my mom gently, my dad at her shoulders and me at her legs, and carried her to the recliner in the living room. She was still unconscious, her breathing steady but shallow. We propped her up with pillows, and my dad grabbed a magazine to fan her face. Portal hovered nearby, their tentacles shifting restlessly as if they wanted to help but didn’t know how.

“She’ll come around,” my dad muttered, more to himself than to us. But I could hear the worry in his voice, the unspoken fear that this was too much for her.

As if on cue, my mom stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked groggily, her gaze unfocused at first, then slowly sharpening as she looked around the room. “What… what happened?” she asked, her voice weak.

“You fainted, honey,” my dad said, his tone gentle as he knelt beside her. “Take it easy.”

She frowned, her brow furrowing as she tried to piece together her memories. Then her eyes widened, and she turned to me, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “You’re… you’re really pregnant?”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yes, Mom. I am.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her face unreadable. Then she closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. “Oh, honey…”

My dad stood up abruptly, his movements stiff but deliberate. He walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Scotch, and poured himself a hefty glass. Then, almost as an afterthought, he grabbed another glass and poured a second one. He turned to Portal, holding out the drink. “Here,” he said gruffly. “You’re going to need this.”

Portal hesitated, their tentacles curling and uncurling uncertainly. Then, tentatively, one of them reached out and took the glass. They held it awkwardly for a moment, the liquid sloshing slightly, before setting it down on the coaster on the end table.

I couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight. Typical Portal, I thought. Even they don't know how to handle a dad-approved scotch.

The room fell quiet, the tension still lingering but softer now, like a storm that had passed but left the air heavy with the scent of rain. My mom leaned back in the recliner, her eyes closed, while my dad stood by the window, sipping his drink and staring out at the night.

And then, Portal moved.

It floated closer to me, their tentacles swaying gently as they stopped just a few feet away. For a moment, they hesitated, their form shifting slightly, like they were gathering their courage. Then, slowly, they lowered theirself to the floor, one tentacle bending in what could only be described as a kneeling position.

My breath caught. “Portal…?”

It reached out, one of their tentacles extending toward me. At the tip, it held something small and glimmering, catching the light in a way that made it sparkle like a star.

Will you marry me? they wrote in the notebook, the words bold and unmistakable.

I stared at them, my heart racing. My hands flew to my mouth as I took in the delicate band they held—a ring made of some iridescent material I couldn’t identify, glowing faintly with every color of the dimension they came from. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Wait,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Is that… a ring?”

One of their tentacles uncurled, revealing the band more clearly. It was thin and elegant, the surface shimmering like the surface of a Portal. My eyes flicked up to their… well, their face, I guess, though I wasn’t entirely sure where their face was. But I could feel their gaze on me, waiting, hopeful.

“Yes,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Portal’s tentacles curled in what I could only describe as pure joy, and they slipped the ring onto my finger. The band felt cool against my skin, but it warmed quickly, as if it belonged there.

My dad let out a low whistle, raising his glass in a silent toast. My mom, still pale but recovering, managed a weak smile. And I—well, I was too overwhelmed to do anything but laugh and cry at the same time.

~~~~~

The moon spilled its silvery light through the curtains of my childhood bedroom, casting shadows that danced across the familiar walls like spectral lovers waltzing in the night. The soft hum of the house settling around me did little to soothe the restless energy coursing through my veins. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the engagement ring on my finger glinting faintly in the dim light like a promise made in secret. My mother had insisted that Portal stay in the guest room, and while I understood her reasoning—humans and their endless need for propriety—the distance felt unbearable, a chasm that ached in my chest.

The door creaked open, and my heart leapt. A familiar, sinuous presence slipped into the room, the air thickening with their otherworldly energy, like the scent of rain before a storm. Portal moved with a fluid grace, their tentacles unraveling and reaching for me like a lover’s arms, each one glistening faintly in the moonlight. I sat up, my breath catching in my throat, my body already responding to their nearness, warmth pooling low in my belly. “You came,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of excitement and relief, the words barely escaping my lips.

One of their tentacles brushed against my cheek, their touch cool and smooth, yet electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. In the faint light, I could see them holding my notebook, one of my old sketchpads with frayed edges and smudged pages. They flipped the pages with practiced ease, their tendril moving the pen across the paper with delicate precision, the ink forming perfect, looping letters. I could not stay away, they wrote. You are mine, and I am yours. This distance is unbearable.

I smiled, my pulse racing, my skin tingling where they had touched me. “I missed you too,” I admitted, my fingers tracing the intricate band of the ring they had given me, marveling at how it fit so perfectly, as if it had always been meant for me. “But we have to be careful. If my parents find out—”

Before I could finish, a tentacle wrapped gently around my wrist, pulling me toward them with a possessiveness that made my knees weak. The notebook fell to the floor with a soft thud, forgotten, as they leaned in, their otherworldly presence enveloping me like a cocoon of desire. Their tendrils brushed against my skin, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched. Let me love you, they wrote on my skin, the sensation sending shivers down my spine, each stroke of the pen deliberate, teasing.

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I nodded, my body already responding to their nearness, my breath coming in shallow gasps. “Yes. Please,” I murmured, my voice a husky whisper, my eyes locking with the swirling void of their form, a universe of stars and darkness, endless and all-consuming.

Their tentacles moved with a ferocity that matched the fire in my veins, each touch a mix of roughness and control that had me gasping for more. One thick, glistening tendril snaked around my waist, lifting me from the bed with a force that made my breath hitch. Another slapped against my inner thigh, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I arched into their touch, my hands instinctively reaching for their slick appendages as they explored my body with an intensity that left me trembling. “Harder,” I moaned, my voice trembling with need. “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

Portal responded with a rough grip, their tentacles wrapping around my wrists and ankles, yanking them apart and binding me tightly to the bedposts. The pressure was almost too much, but the ache only fueled my desire. One tendril snaked up my thigh, slapping my pussy with a sharp crack that made me cry out. “Yes!” I gasped, my hips bucking against the restraints. “Just like that. Fucking own me.”

Their tendrils moved with precision, one curling around my neck and squeezing just enough to make my vision blur at the edges. Another pinched my nipples hard, the sharp pain melting into pleasure as I writhed against the binds. “You like that, don’t you?” I panted, my voice hoarse. “You love hearing me beg for more. Fucking take it all.”

Portal didn’t write—not yet. Instead, they answered with action, their tentacles slapping my tits with a rhythmic force that left my skin tingling. I cried out, my body trembling as the sensations threatened to overwhelm me. “Harder, fuck, please!” I begged, my voice breaking. “Make me feel it. I’m yours—do whatever you want to me.”

Finally, they reached for the notebook, their tendril moving the pen across the page with deliberate strokes. You are mine, they wrote, the words bold and unyielding. Tell me how much you want it.

I grinned, my body still quivering with need. “I want it all,” I said, my voice dripping with desire. “Fuck me raw. Make me scream. I’m your little slut, remember? Use me however you want.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Their tentacles surged forward, filling me, stretching me in ways that made my vision blur. One thrust deep into my pussy, while another pressed against my ass, the stretch almost unbearable but oh so good. A third teased my mouth, and I opened wide, letting it fuck my face as I moaned around it. “God, yes!” I cried, my voice muffled. “Fuck me, fill me up. I need it all.”

The tentacles moved with a desperate urgency, their rhythm rough and unrelenting. I could feel the pressure building inside me, each thrust driving me closer to the edge. “I’m gonna cum,” I gasped, my body tightening around it. “Don’t stop. Fucking breed me, fill me with your cum.”

They did. Their tendrils pulsed inside me, flooding my pussy, my ass, my mouth with their thick, hot essence. I screamed, my body convulsing with pleasure as they claimed me completely. Portal’s tentacles tightened around me, binding me even more firmly as they continued to pump their cum deep inside me.

When they finally released me, I collapsed onto the bed, my body trembling and spent. Portal wrote again, the words scrawled across the page in bold. You are mine. Forever.

I smiled, my fingers weakly tracing the words. “I’m yours,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Fucking take me whenever you want.”

Portal’s tentacles coiled around me, their cool, slick texture pressing against my skin in a protective embrace that felt both possessive and tender. I sighed, letting myself sink into the sensation, my body still tingling from the intensity of what we’d just shared. For a long moment, we stayed like that, the silence of the room wrapping around us like a cocoon. The world outside didn’t exist—just us, and the bond that tied us together, a bond that felt as deep and unyielding as the void they had emerged from.

Eventually, they lifted me gently, their tentacles cradling my body with a care that made my heart swell. They carried me back to the bed, laying me down on the soft sheets, their presence lingering close, their tendrils brushing against my skin as if to reassure me they weren’t going anywhere. One of their tentacles reached for the notebook on the nightstand, flipping it open and scrawling a single word in bold, looping letters: Rest.

I nodded, my eyelids already heavy with exhaustion. Portal’s tendrils smoothed over my skin, their touch soothing as they hovered beside the bed, their presence a constant, comforting shadow in the night. Sleep claimed me quickly, my dreams filled with swirling stars and the faint echoes of their touch.

Morning came too soon. The sunlight streamed through the curtains, pulling me from my dreams with a soft insistence. I blinked, disoriented, until I felt the familiar weight of their tentacles curled around me, their hold protective and possessive even in sleep. A small smile tugged at my lips as I traced the slick surface of one of their appendages with my fingers, marveling at how something so alien could feel so right.

“Good morning,” I whispered, my voice still husky from sleep.

Before they could respond—not that they could speak—the sound of footsteps in the hallway made us both freeze. My mother’s voice carried through the door, sharp and insistent. “Breakfast is ready! Hurry up before it gets cold!”

Portal’s tentacles retreated quickly, slipping out of the bed with a fluid grace that almost made me laugh despite the tension. I scrambled to get dressed, my heart pounding as I tried to compose myself. “Go back to the guest room,” I hissed, shooing them toward the door with a frantic wave of my hand. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

It obeyed, slithering out of the room with a speed that was almost comical. I took a deep breath, smoothing down my hair and adjusting my clothes before heading downstairs, forcing a bright smile onto my face.

The kitchen was a scene of awkward tension, the air thick with unspoken words and stifled glances. My mother bustled around, her movements sharp and purposeful as she piled golden pancakes onto plates with a little too much vigor. The clatter of the spatula against the pan was almost deafening in the strained silence. My father sat at the head of the table, his coffee cup cradled in his hands, his expression inscrutable as he stared into the steaming dark liquid. Portal sat awkwardly in the corner, their tentacles folded neatly in their ‘lap’—a comical attempt at mimicking human decorum. The notebook rested beside them like a lifeline, its pages filled with the looping, elegant handwriting that had become our primary means of communication.

I could tell they were trying to make themself as small as possible, their usually imposing presence subdued in the face of my parents’ scrutiny. It was a stark contrast to the confident, dominating entity that had ravished me just hours before, their tendrils binding me with a ferocity that had left me trembling and spent.

I slid into my seat, avoiding my mother’s searching gaze. “Morning,” I said, my voice overly bright as I reached for a pancake. The syrup bottle was sticky in my hands, and I fumbled with it for a moment before managing to pour a generous glob onto my plate.

My mother set a plate in front of me, her eyes narrowing as they darted between me and Portal. “Did you sleep well?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral, though I could hear the undercurrent of suspicion. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment too long, and I felt my cheeks warm under her scrutiny.

“Great,” I lied, shoving a bite of pancake into my mouth. Too quickly—I nearly choked but managed to swallow it down, the sweetness of the syrup cloying on my tongue. “How about you?”

She didn’t answer, her lips pressing into a thin line as she turned back to the stove. The silence stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the faint sizzle of batter hitting the hot pan. My father cleared his throat, his gaze settling on Portal. “You’re not eating? Must’ve worked up quite an appetite last night,” he said casually, his voice low and steady, but the implication was unmistakable.

I choked on my sip of coffee, the liquid burning my throat as I coughed violently, my face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and panic. My mother whirled around, her spatula in hand like a weapon. “Richard!” she hissed, her voice fierce and scandalized, her cheeks flushing with indignation.

Portal froze, their tentacles twitching nervously for a moment before one of them reached for the notebook. They flipped to a fresh page with practiced ease, their tendril moving the pen with deliberate strokes. When they were done, they slid the notebook across the table toward my father. The words on the page were bold and clear: I can eat only seafood from your world. Also, forgive my transgression last night with your daughter. I am still learning human social customs, and was reassured by your daughter that ‘It will be fine.’ Please accept my apology.

My father studied the words, his expression unreadable as he took another sip of coffee. He set the cup down with a soft clink, his gaze flickering to me briefly before returning to Portal. “Ah, forget it,” he said finally, his voice gruff but not unkind. “I haven’t had a say in my daughter’s life in years. At least you’re respectful,” he added, though his eyes lingered on Portal for a moment longer, his thoughts unspoken but heavy in the air.

My mother shot me a look that promised a later conversation, her lips pressed into a tight line as she turned her attention back to the pancakes with a sigh. Portal sat quietly, their tentacles retreating slightly as they seemed to shrink further into the corner, though their presence remained steady and reassuring. I could feel their gaze on me, a faint warmth that grounded me despite the tension in the room.

I glanced at them, catching the faintest movement of one of their tendrils as they traced a small heart on the edge of the notebook. My cheeks warmed, and I quickly looked away, focusing on my breakfast even as my heart swelled with affection.

The rest of breakfast passed in relative silence, the weight of the unspoken settling over us like a heavy blanket. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the occasional sip of coffee filled the room, but the tension lingered, palpable and unshaken. My mother’s eyes kept darting to me, her gaze piercing, as though she were trying to unravel a secret I wasn’t ready to share. I focused on my pancakes, pushing the syrup-soaked bites around my plate, my appetite dulled by the nervous energy humming through me. Across the table, Portal sat still, their tentacles folded neatly, a picture of restraint that felt almost comical given what had transpired just hours before.

Once the meal was over, I helped my mother clear the table, the clatter of dishes providing a brief distraction from the heavy atmosphere. She moved with sharp, efficient motions, her hands bustling but her mind clearly elsewhere. “You know,” she began, her voice low and measured, “your father and I just want you to be safe. This is... uncharted territory for all of us.” Her gaze lingered on me, her eyes softening with a mix of concern and love.

“I know, Mom,” I said, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. “But I’m okay. Better than okay. I promise.”

She nodded, though her expression remained uncertain. “Just... don’t forget where you come from, okay? No matter what happens, we’re here for you.”

I hugged her tightly, her familiar scent of lavender and vanilla wrapping around me like a protective shield. “I won’t,” I murmured into her shoulder. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. She held me for a moment longer before releasing me, her hands lingering on my shoulders as though she were reluctant to let go.

Across the room, my father had taken Portal aside, his voice low but firm. I couldn’t hear the words, but the expression on his face was one of quiet determination. Portal’s tentacles moved in what I could only describe as a gesture of respect, one tendril extended slightly, their tip hovering in the air as though in a silent promise. My father reached out, gripping the tentacle in a firm handshake, his gaze steady and unyielding.

"Remember what I said about never hurting her,” my father said, his voice low but filled with authority. “I meant it... Son.”

Portal paused for a moment, their tentacles shifting as they wrote notebook. I will remember. Your daughter is safe with me.

My father nodded, his expression softening slightly, though the seriousness in his eyes remained. “Good. Take care of her.”

Finally, it was time to leave. My mother hugged me tightly once more, her grip almost desperate. “Take care of yourself,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I will,” I promised, squeezing her back. “I’ll call you soon, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she stepped back, her hands lingering on mine for a moment before letting go. My father gave me a quick, gruff hug, his strong arms a comforting anchor. “Don’t make us worry too much,” he said, his voice soft but carrying the weight of his unspoken fears.

“I won’t, Dad,” I replied, smiling up at him. “I’ll be fine.”

I climbed into the car, Portal slipping into the passenger seat beside me. Their presence was soothing, their cool, slick tendrils brushing against my arm in a silent reassurance. As I started the engine, I glanced over at them, my heart swelling with affection. “Ready?”

It reached over, one of their tentacles brushing against my hand, the touch electric and familiar. In the notebook, they wrote: Always. With you, I am ready for anything.

After a moment, they slowly wrote another note, seeming almost hesitant. Except maybe bringing you to meet my parents.