𝑍𝑜𝑖𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑢𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑐

The afternoon sun, usually a welcome warmth, felt almost too bright, too exposed. Zoid, clutching Luke’s hand a little tighter than usual, scanned the bustling park. Children shrieked with laughter, dogs chased balls with gleeful abandon, and couples strolled by, their easy affection a stark contrast to the knot of anxiety tightening in Zoid’s stomach. They’d agreed to meet Luke’s parents here, a neutral territory, a public space where Zoid hoped any ingrained prejudice might be softened by the general good cheer. But as they approached the designated picnic table, Zoid’s breath hitched. Luke’s parents were… not alone. Standing beside them, a predatory smile plastered on her face, was Marilyn.

“Luke, darling!” Marilyn’s voice, saccharine and laced with an unnerving familiarity, cut through the park’s murmur. She detached herself from Luke’s parents and glided towards them, her eyes, sharp and assessing, immediately landing on Zoid. “And who’s this delightful… addition?”

Zoid felt a flush creep up their neck, a familiar heat of indignation. They’d hoped, *prayed*, that Marilyn would be a ghost of the past, a non-entity in their present. But here she was, radiating an aura of entitlement that made Zoid’s teeth ache. Luke, bless his heart, squeezed Zoid’s hand reassuringly, but his smile was strained.