“My family isn’t like other families. I need you to know that. You saw as much during our date...but this isn’t a temporary thing. This is the way it’s always going to be. We can never tell them we’re together. If we do, they’ll fight us at every step. They’ll see you as a distraction from school, and it doesn’t help that you’re white. They’re never going to accept you.” I fiddle with my sleeve, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t want them to take drastic measures.”

“Drastic measures?” he repeats quietly.

My bottom lip quivers. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I never want you to think I’m embarrassed of you or ashamed to be with you or anything like that, but I can’t ever tell them. You’re never going to be able to have the experience that I’m having right now, where you get to sit and eat with them. They’ll never make us pose for prom pictures. They’ll never clap you on the back or joke around with you. Just...all of it. They’ll never approve, and they’ll never allow it.”

Ace’s frown becomes deeper. “They’d be that upset you’re dating me?”

“Yeah. That’s just how they are.” In an attempt to lighten the mood, I add, “Knowing them, they’ll probably start looking for potential husbands when I graduate from college. Maybe we can drop the bomb on them then and run off into the sunset.”

Ace tilts my chin up. “Like an arranged marriage? They’d force you to do that?”

I shrug, even though my skin is crawling from just discussing this topic. “Not exactly. They wouldn’t force me. But deeply encourage me? Probably.”

His eyes are sad. “Is that—is that what you want?”

“What?” I ask, lips parting. “No, of course not.”

“How can you talk about this so lightly then?” Ace asks, letting go of me to run his hand through his hair in a quick, agitated movement. He’s clearly frustrated, and I don’t know how to make it better. “I don’t understand, Karina. You don’t have to tell your parents about us if you don’t want to, but is it your choice? Is any of it? First your major, now your relationships? What’s next? When does it end? Maybe it’s not my place to ask, and I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but I just... I want you to be happy.”

I understand where he’s coming from, but it doesn’t make it any easier to have this conversation. “They’re not choosing for me. They’re just worried about my future,” I say, but the words are empty. “And I—I can’t disappoint them.”

“Why not?” His gaze is beseeching.

I blink. How do I answer that? “They’re my parents, Ace.”