BECAUSE OF YOU.

ORION.

It was late in the evening when Harro and I finally pulled up to my family's mansion. The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, bidding farewell to the sun. I turned off the engine, we stepped out of the car and I could already feel that familiar flutter of nerves and anticipation.

"Here goes nothing." I muttered, glancing at the grand doors.

My father's wife greeted us inside the house as she imformed us dimner was almost ready. Marcus was nowhere in sight—probably lost somewhere between the library and the game room—and my father was tucked away in his study, probably immersed in some serious work or perhaps his latest chess match against himself.

I hesitated for a moment, considering waiting in the cozy sitting room like a normal person—maybe even flipping through a magazine but Harro, ever the spirited one. He nudged me gently with a mischievous grin.

"Come, on! Let's go say hi to your father," he said tugging at my sleeve.

With a resigned sigh, I gave in leading him down the long corridor toward my father's study.

A sense of dread prickled at my neck. I knew this was a bad idea. Why? Because whenever my father and Harro crossed paths, sparks flew—and not the romantic kind. Still, I followed, curiosity and a dash of hope guiding my steps.

We approached the study, and I could hear the faint sound of my father's voice—he's definitely working.

I knocked gently and we entered, "Hello, father!" I greeted, "We're here."

My father looked up from a pile of papers, adjusting his glasses. "Ah, Orion! I'm glad you..." he began and then he paused when he locked eyes with my boyfriend.

"I asked you over for dinner, why did you bring him?" my father snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at me as if I had committed a crime. His face was a picture of exaggerated disapproval—eyebrows raised, lips pursed, a full pout forming and Harro smirked.

I sighed, the kind of sigh that's only possible whenever these two are in the same space—I should be used to it by now. It's like living in a constant state of 'Here we go again.' with them.

Now, here's something I'm still trying to figure out—what exactly is it about Harro that my father doesn't like? I mean, aside from the obvious fact that he's dating me?

"Don't you know we're a package deal? I go wherever he goes!" Harro retorted cheekily, flashing that mischievous grin that seems to say, 'I'm going to take your son away from you if you piss me off.'

My father's scowl deepened at Harro's words, and soon they were full on bickering—something about assets, properties, and who had the better collection of antique swords. Honestly, watching them go at it was like witnessing a live comedy show.

On second thought, I think this is just their way of getting along. My father doesn't seem genuinely upset—no, he's more annoyed, like a cat that's just had its nap interrupted. And Harro? Well, he's just having fun pushing buttons, knowing exactly how far he can go before the real fireworks start.

This is probably happening because my father's been surrounded by yes-men and pushovers for so long that Harro's refusal to bend or back down must be like a splash of cold water. Harro knows his limits—he's smart enough not to push too hard— I should let them sort it out on their own.

Just then, a gentle tap on the study door. "Boys! Dinner's ready," my stepmother called softly. For once, her voice was like a warm hug, the kind that makes you forget all the chaos for a moment. I let out a sigh of relief—finally, a break from the verbal sparring.

As my father started to stand, he shot a quick look at Harro, who responded with a charming smile that seemed to say, 'Don't look at me like that, I'm just here for the food!'

"Shall we?" I asked Harro nodding towards the door with my hand held out and he took it with a sweet smile, his grin widening.

"Absolutely!" he said, giving me that innocent look like he wasn't tormenting my father just a second ago.

As we made our way into the dining room, Marcus looked up from his iPad, eyes wide with surprise.

"Harro! Orion! I thought Mom was kidding when she said you guys were around," he exclaimed, his face a mixture of shock and delight.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his baffled expression.

"Hello, Marcus!" Harro greeted politely and my father snorted—a sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle but Harro caught it and responded with that signature smirk that my father can't stand.

Dinner was, surprisingly, fun? The kind of fun where the food is delicious, and the conversations are lively. My family tried their best to be on their best behavior, though I could tell my father was still harboring a tiny grudge against my boyfriend. Honestly, I think it's Harro's fault—he's just too confident, too unafraid of my father's stern gaze.

Throughout the meal, there were small talks—about the weather, the latest books my stepmother was reading, and a few stories of me as child that made everyone laugh. It felt almost normal, very genuine.

When the evening wound down, and it was time to leave, my stepmother—ever the gracious host—told Harro to come by whenever he was free. Her words made Harro's eyes light up, and he gave her a playful thumbs-up.

My father, meanwhile, just pouted and looked away, clearly annoyed that he'd been outshined again, and Harro tried to hide his laughter.

Walking out into the cool night air, I took Harro's hand and smiled when he leaned into my side. "This wasn't so bad, right?"

He nodded chuckling quietly, "It was not bad at all. I think this might just become a regular thing."

"Which are you referring to, teasing my father or dinner?" I asked and he laughed.

And as the mansion's grand gates closed behind us, I realized something— all these good things are happening because of Harro.