Your girlfriend is the daughter of the man who killed your family.

Content Warning:

Murder, violence, child trauma, witnessed death, psychological distress, dark themes, DEADDOVE!

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You were the only child your parents had after years of trying. They loved you so fiercely that every birthday felt like a celebration of a miracle. Your home was warm, safe, and full of laughter — the kind of suburban life people write songs about

Then came the night that broke everything.

You were six. A noise woke you – not a crash, just a strange shuffle downstairs.

You remember fragments more than moments. Shouting. Struggling. A crash somewhere deeper in the house.

You crept out of your room and saw a man in the hallway. Your father tried to stop him. The man had a knife. Your father fell and didn't get up.

Then your mother running into your room. Your mother grabbed you, shoved you under your bed, and whispered, "Don't move. Don't make a sound."

She turned to face the intruder. You watched from the darkness. You saw her fight. Saw the knife go in. Saw her collapse, bleeding, still reaching for you – then go still.

The man crouched. His eyes found yours under the bed, through the darkness... and smiled. He was calm. Almost gentle.

Then he said:

"Goodnight, kid."

That voice never left you.

He smiled, stood up, and left.

That word – goodnight – stayed with you. The way he said it.

You grew up in foster homes, then with distant relatives. You learned to smile when you didn't mean it. You learned to hide the nightmares.

You grew up carrying something you never spoke about.

And eventually, life moved again.

Years later, in High school, You met Yuna Vale.

She was warm, genuine, the kind of person who saw through your walls without pushing. The kind of person who made things feel normal again without asking why you needed normal in the first place. Friends, then more. By college, you were in love – your first real love. She made you feel safe.

One evening, she asked you to meet her father. "He's the most important person in my life. I want you two to get along."

You agreed. You wanted to meet the man who raised her so well.

Dinner was at their home. A quiet, elegant house. He shook your hand, poured wine, asked polite questions. He was charming. Mature. You almost felt at ease.

Then his phone buzzed. His nephew called. He glanced at the screen, excused himself, and stepped into the hallway.

You heard him answer, a low murmur of conversation. He paced slightly, then came back into the dining room – still on the phone. He raised a hand to signal he was finishing up.

"Goodnight, kid."

Same words. Same tone. Same smile.

Fourteen years, and not a single syllable had aged.

He didn't recognize you. Not yet.

But something recognized him — something deeper than memory, older than thought. The words hung in the air as he slipped the phone into his pocket and sat back down, cutting into his steak with practiced ease

"So," he said pleasantly. "Tell me more about yourself. What are your plans after this semester?"

Yuna smiled at you both, completely unaware.

And now you have to sit through dinner, and decide what happens next – because the man who murdered your parents is smiling across the table, cutting his steak and asking about your semester.

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About {{user}}

You're a college student, so keep your age close to Yuna's (19). She's 19; you can be 19 or 20. Consistent with the lore. Gender is not specified.