You know when life feels like a game of Whac-A-Mole, where every time you handle one problem, another one pops up to smack you in the face? Yeah. That was me. Whac-A-Mole Champion, three years running.

Because just when I thought I had at least one part of my life under control—Pierre—I got slammed with two lovely reminders that the universe wasn't done messing with me yet: 1) Ethyn Moralez had decided to make me his personal entertainment, and 2) my family was the living, breathing embodiment of chaos.

"You're staring at your phone like it's about to explode," Erin said, plopping down on my bed next to me as I scrolled through the latest text from Ethyn. "Another cryptic message from the human disaster?"

I groaned, tossing the phone onto my pillow. "He's obsessed with making my life difficult. I'm starting to think he's got a radar for it."

Fabian, lounging on the floor with a magazine, raised his eyebrows. "Well, darling, Ethyn's not exactly known for his subtlety. He's like a storm—you know it's coming, you just don't know how bad it's going to be."

"Great," I muttered, burying my face in my hands. "I need to stay focused on Pierre, but every time I'm around Ethyn, I feel like I'm standing in front of a tornado. A really hot tornado."

Erin snorted. "Tornado? More like a nuclear meltdown."

"Hot meltdown, though," Fabian chimed in. "I mean, let's be honest."

"Not helping," I groaned, flopping onto my back and staring at the ceiling.

"You just have to keep him at arm's length," Erin said matter-of-factly, twirling her pencil like she was solving a math equation. "Stay focused on Pierre. Remember the goal."

"The goal." I repeated like a mantra. Get Pierre. Win the bet. Become a legend.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

Before I could wallow in my existential crisis any further, I heard the unmistakable sound of a pot crashing to the floor downstairs, followed by my father's exasperated voice.

"Oh no," I muttered, sitting up quickly. "I completely forgot."

"What?" Erin asked, looking curious.

"My grandfather's coming over for dinner," I said, jumping to my feet. "I was supposed to help my dad get ready."

Fabian shot me a dramatic look. "Wait, the famous Devraj Singh is gracing us with his presence tonight? The man, the myth, the legend?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. "Yeah, him."

Erin raised an eyebrow. "How did that slip your mind?"

"Because my life is a never-ending train wreck right now," I said, grabbing a hoodie and throwing it over my head. "And if I don't get down there, my dad's going to have a meltdown of his own."

Fabian snickered. "I'd pay to see that."

"You're coming with me," I said, pointing at both of them. "Moral support. Let's go."

My family, to put it mildly, was a lot. And when I say a lot, I mean a lot. Like, "more than you bargained for" a lot.

By the time we got downstairs, the kitchen was already in full chaos mode. My dad, Rajesh Singh, was standing at the stove, wearing a frilly apron that did absolutely nothing to lessen the intense, frazzled energy radiating off him.

"Lee!" he called the moment he spotted me. "Thank God. Can you make sure the table is set? Your grandfather's going to be here any minute."

I nodded, already moving toward the dining room with Erin and Fabian trailing behind me. My dad was great—really, he was—but when it came to family dinners, he had this unrelenting need for everything to be perfect. It probably came from years of trying to live up to the expectations of my grandfather, Devraj Singh, who, in case you didn't know, was basically a walking symbol of tradition and order.

Erin shot me a knowing look as we started setting the table. "Your dad's in full meltdown mode."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, grabbing the plates. "It's always like this when Granddad comes over. Everything has to be just right."

Fabian leaned against the wall, watching us with a smirk. "Does the man have a checklist or something? What happens if there's, like, one spoon out of place?"

"He doesn't say anything," I said, rolling my eyes. "He just looks at you. And trust me, that look is worse than any lecture."

Fabian let out a low whistle. "Yikes. The power of the silent disappointment."

I shrugged. "Welcome to my life."

Just as we finished setting the table, the front door opened, and my grandfather walked in, carrying himself with that same air of authority he always had. He was tall, with silver hair and sharp eyes that seemed to notice every little detail.

Devraj Singh didn't need to say much to command attention. His mere presence was enough to make the room feel smaller.

"Dadi," I said, forcing a smile as I walked over to greet him.

"Leelavathi," he said, giving me a nod of approval. His voice was deep and measured, like he weighed every word before he spoke it. The way he called my name made me stand up straighter, no one else called me that except him, "Good to see you. You're looking well."

"Thanks," I said, feeling that familiar knot of anxiety tighten in my chest.

He turned to my dad, who was now frantically stirring something on the stove. "Rajesh, everything looks in order."

My dad let out a breath of relief, smiling. "Thank you, Father. We're just about ready to sit down."

Devraj gave another approving nod, then turned to look at Erin and Fabian, who were both doing their best to blend into the background.

"These are your friends?" he asked, his gaze sharp but not unfriendly.

"Yeah," I said, motioning to them. "This is Erin and Fabian."

Fabian, never one to be intimidated, stepped forward with a grin. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Singh. I've heard so much about you."

My grandfather raised an eyebrow but nodded politely. "Likewise."

Erin, much more low-key, gave a small smile and a polite nod. "Nice to meet you, sir."

Dinner was served soon after, and to my dad's relief, it seemed like everything went off without a hitch. The food was good, the conversation polite, and for a brief moment, I almost forgot about the Ethyn-Pierre drama waiting for me outside the walls of this house.

Almost.

But just as I was starting to relax, my grandfather, ever the one for dropping conversational bombs, turned his attention back to me.

"So, Leelavathi," he said, his voice calm but probing. "What's going on in your life? How's school?"

My fork froze halfway to my mouth. How was school? Well, Granddad, I'm in the middle of a high-stakes bet with the school's most popular guy, while also dealing with a bad boy who seems to enjoy tormenting me for sport. And let's not forget the pressure of maintaining a social life, grades, and maybe getting some sleep.

"School's fine," I said, keeping my voice light. "Just busy, you know. Junior year and all."

"Busy is good," he said, nodding approvingly. "But don't let yourself get distracted. You've always had potential, Leelavathi. I'd hate to see you squander it."

My stomach tightened. Devraj Singh wasn't the type to mince words. His expectations were always clear: I was supposed to do well, to succeed, to be the best. No pressure, right?

"I'm not distracted," I lied, giving him what I hoped was a convincing smile. "I'm focused."

"Good," he said, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his food.

The rest of the dinner passed without any more loaded questions, but I could feel the weight of my grandfather's silent expectations hanging over me like a cloud. My dad, bless him, did his best to keep the conversation light, but I could tell he was relieved when dinner was finally over, and we moved to the living room for tea.

Fabian leaned over to me as we sat down, whispering in my ear. "Your grandfather is intense."

"Tell me about it," I whispered back, glancing over at Devraj, who was sipping his tea with the same level of precision he brought to everything else.

After about half an hour of awkward small talk, my grandfather finally stood up, signaling that it was time for him to leave.

"Thank you for dinner," he said, giving my dad a nod. "It was excellent."

"Thank you, Father," my dad said, looking like he'd just been handed an Olympic gold medal.

Devraj turned to me, his expression softening just a little. "Keep up the good work, Lee. I have high hopes for you."

"Thanks, Dadi," I said, managing a smile.

And with that, he was gone, leaving the house feeling ten times lighter in his absence.

My dad let out a long sigh of relief as soon as the door closed. "Well, that went better than I expected."

"See?" I said, patting his arm. "You survived."

"Barely," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "That man can be exhausting."

"Tell me about it," I said, flopping onto the couch next to Fabian.

"Well, that was... an experience," Erin said, sitting down across from me. "Your grandfather is something else."

"Yup," I said, leaning my head back and staring at the ceiling. "But at least the worst part is over."

Fabian raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

I gave him a skeptical look. "What do you mean?"

He smirked. "You still have to deal with Ethyn."

I groaned, covering my face with a pillow. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I'm your friend, and I love you," he said, his tone all too cheerful.

Erin snorted. "And because he enjoys watching you suffer."

"Exactly," Fabian said, winking.

I sighed, pulling the pillow off my face and sitting up. "I'll figure it out. I just need to get through the next few days without Ethyn ruining everything."

"Good luck with that," Erin said, shaking her head. "You're gonna need it."