Six months pass.
I move through vampire society with the kind of confidence that comes from surviving what should have killed me. Sit in on territory negotiations. Stand at Dorian's side when visiting vampires come calling. Handle disputes between fledglings who test boundaries.
Other vampires treat me as Dorian's chosen. The weight carries its own currency. Fear and respect braided together.
One evening I tell Dorian I need to handle something.
"Do you want company?" he asks.
"This one's mine alone."
I drive to my parents' house in the suburbs. Park on the street. Walk up the driveway I used to run down as a child.
My mother answers the door. Her face cycles through shock and hope and something harder.
"David! She's here!"
They pull me inside like they're afraid I'll vanish. Offer coffee I won't drink. Seat me in the living room that still smells like furniture polish and disappointment.
My father wastes no time.
"We know Dorian is not just your friend."
I go still. "What?"
"June told us. We called her. You wouldn't answer for six months."
Anger flares hot. "You had no right to call her."
"We're your parents. We have every right." My mother leans forward. "That man stole you from us."
"He didn't steal anything."
"You moved in with him. Cut us off. Changed everything." Her voice breaks. "He poisoned you against your own family."
"He opened my eyes."
"To what?" My father stands. "To abandoning the people who raised you? Who sacrificed everything for you?"
"You sacrificed nothing. You controlled everything."
"We protected you."
"You suffocated me."
My mother's hand flies to her chest. "How can you say that? After everything we gave you?"
"You gave me conditions. Rules. A checklist of who I needed to be to earn your approval."
"That's not true—"
"When Cole hit me, you blamed me. When I got Columbia, you said it wasn't good enough. When I chose a career you didn't like, you stopped speaking to me for a month."
The room goes silent.
"That man," my father says, voice tight. "Dorian. He's too old for you. Too controlling. He's isolated you from everyone who cares about you."
"He hasn't isolated me from anyone. I chose distance. From you."
"Because he manipulated you into it."
"No." I stand. "Because you never loved me. You loved the version of me that made you look good."
My mother's face crumples. "That's cruel."
"It's true."
"He's turned you into this. This angry, ungrateful—"
"It’s true. Dorian isn't just my friend." The words cut clean. "He's my lover."
Both freeze.
"Your what?" My father's voice drops dangerous.
"My lover. We're together."
"Together." My mother repeats it like a curse. "You're sleeping with that man?"
"I love him."
"You barely know him."
"I know him better than I've ever known you."
My father moves fast. Plants himself between me and the door. "You're not going back to him."
"You can't stop me."
"We can get help. Intervention. Therapy." My mother stands. "We can fix this before it's too late."
"There's nothing to fix."
"He's brainwashed you—"
"He sees me. Actually sees me. Not who you want me to be. Who I actually am."
"And who is that?" My father's face goes red. "Someone who throws away her family for a man? Someone who disrespects everything we built?"
"Someone who refuses to apologize for existing."
My mother reaches for me. "Please. We can work through this. Come home. Leave him. We'll figure this out together."
I step back. "There's nothing to figure out. I'm not leaving him. I'm not coming home. I'm done performing for you."
"Performing?" My father's voice cracks. "We're your parents!"
"Then act like it. Love me without conditions. Accept who I am. Or don't. But stop pretending you care when all you want is control."
"We want you safe—"
"You want me obedient."
Silence falls like a hammer.
My mother sinks back onto the couch. "You really choose him over us?"
"I choose myself. He supports that choice."
"Then you're making a mistake." My father's hands shake. "And when it all falls apart, don't come crying to us."
"I won't."
I walk to the door. My father doesn't move. I wait. He stares at me like I'm a stranger. Finally steps aside.
My mother's voice stops me at the threshold.
"If you walk out that door, we're done."
I look back. "Then I guess we're done."
I step into the night. Close the door behind me. The lock clicks soft.
My hands shake as I unlock the car. Slide behind the wheel. My phone rings before I start the engine.
June.
I answer.
"They called you?" Her voice is tight. "I'm sorry. I didn't tell them anything specific. Just that you seemed happy."
"I handled it."
"Did you?"
I start the engine. "I told them about Dorian."
Silence. Then, "How'd they take it?"
"Badly."
"Are you okay?"
I pull away from the curb. Watch my parents' house shrink in the rearview mirror.
"Yeah. I'm free."
By the time I reach the city, the shaking stops.
I pick up Dorian and we drive to June's bar. It's crowded. Thursday night regulars packed three deep. June spots us from behind the bar. Waves us to the back office.
She's got color in her cheeks again. Moves without the careful stiffness of healing ribs. Pulls me into a hug that's become easier over the past months.
Still has moments of hesitation. Still catches herself staring sometimes like she's confirming I'm real. But the fear has dulled into something manageable.
We talk about normal things.
The bar's new menu. June's disaster of a date last week. Dorian's dry commentary on vampire politics that makes June laugh.
At some point June shakes her head, grinning.
"My best friend is a vampire. My life is so weird."
I laugh. Real laughter that comes from my chest.
It's the first time I've felt fully myself in both worlds. Not performing humanity for June. Not proving darkness for Dorian. Just existing as the thing I actually am.
June raises her glass.
"To weird lives."
We drink.
Outside the office, the bar noise swells. Music and voices and the clink of glass. The sound of life continuing, adapting, making room for things that shouldn't exist but do anyway.