Chapter Nine: Fear, Reluctance, and Unlikely Acceptance

We had always raised Aire to think for herself. To make her own choices. To stand strong, even when the world tried to bend her.

And yet, as I sat here, watching her argue her case with a conviction I couldn’t ignore, I felt my chest tighten. My wife’s hand gripped mine lightly, and I realized we were both holding onto something deeper than just concern.

Fear.

Fear of the age difference. Fear of the power imbalance. Fear that this would hurt her.

“Yes, she’s grown,” I said finally, voice tight. “But—Marcus… he’s—”

“Older than her?” my wife finished. Her voice was softer than mine, but it carried the same tension.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Far older.”

Aire’s expression didn’t falter. She looked from me to my wife and then to Marcus, who stood quietly, every inch the man she loved—reserved, careful, controlled.

“She’s allowed to choose,” my wife said gently.

“I know,” I admitted. “I raised her to be capable, to make her own mistakes—but…” I trailed off. The “but” was heavy.

“Scared?” Aire asked softly.

I flinched. She could always see right through me. “Yes,” I said. “I’m scared that… I don’t know if she’s ready. That he—well, that he’s… older. Stronger. More experienced.”

Aire nodded once, understanding. “I’m aware. I’ve thought about it. And I’m okay with it.”

My wife squeezed my hand. “She’s serious, and we can’t ignore that. We’ve spent her whole life teaching her to make her own choices. This is no different.”

I exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

My words sounded small even to me. “Okay. We trust you… both.”

Marcus gave me a quiet nod. “I won’t hurt her,” he said simply.

“You better not,” I muttered, more out of habit than threat. My stomach churned, but at least there was some reassurance.

Aire’s lips curved slightly. “Thank you… for trusting me.”

Then Nia, of course, had to make her presence known.

“So… when you guys get married, I’m not calling you Mom,” she said brightly, grinning at Aire like she’d just delivered the punchline of the century.

I blinked at her. “Nia—”

“Too late,” she said, shrugging. “Not my problem.”

Aire rolled her eyes, laughing softly. “You’re terrible.”

Nia shrugged. “I’m honest.”

Jalen, on the other hand, didn’t look anywhere near as amused. He sat on the couch, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes blazing with something I couldn’t quite name. Disappointment? Rage? Lustful frustration at seeing someone else claim Aire in a way he’d wanted?

I shook my head. Teenagers. Always overreacting. Even the ones who were… supposed to be mature.

“Jalen,” I said firmly, “you need to calm down.”

He ignored me, muttering something under his breath.

Nia leaned over, nudging him. “I hope you’ve got therapy on speed dial because that spiral you’re on is… impressive.”

He gaped at her. “You—”

“Don’t even start,” she said, smirking. “Just accept the fact that she loves Dad and move on.”

I rubbed my temple. This was ridiculous, of course it was ridiculous. But deep down, I couldn’t deny the truth. Aire was grown. She had thought this through. And Marcus… as scary as the age difference made me, I could see he wasn’t reckless. He was deliberate. Careful. Respectful.

I sighed. “Fine,” I said finally. “We’re… we’re agreeing. With caution. But with agreement.”

Aire’s relief was palpable. She exhaled deeply and flopped onto the couch beside Marcus.

My wife leaned into me, shaking her head. “We’re going to have to get used to this.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

And in the corner, Jalen’s glare could have sliced steel. Nia’s laughter filled the room, a bright, chaotic counterpoint to my lingering unease.

This family was far from peaceful. But maybe… just maybe… it was enough.