Page 80 of Fake Married to the Grumps

I grip my fork tightly, pressing my lips together to hold back the bitter words rising in my throat. "It's going fine, Dad. Just fine."

"I heard about your latest movie," he begins, his tone measured. "Another action flick, I presume? You know, Bryce, you've made quite a name for yourself in Hollywood. But have you ever considered taking on more serious roles? Something that showcases your range as an actor?"

After years of dismissing my passion, now he wants to offer advice? I grip my fork tightly, the metal biting into my palm.

"I'm happy with the roles I've been doing, Dad. Action movies are what I'm known for, and I enjoy the challenge," I reply, my voice tight with defensiveness.

He nods, cutting into his steak with deliberate movements. "Of course, of course. But you have so much potential, Bryce. I just don't want to see you limit yourself. You could be taking on more complex characters, and exploring different genres. Don't be afraid to step out of your comfort zone."

"I don't need you telling me how to handle my career, Dad. I've gotten this far without your input, and I'll continue to do so," I snap, my voice rising with each word.

My mother attempts to diffuse the tension, her voice is gentle but firm. "Now, Bryce, there's no need to be defensive. Your father is just asking out of concern."

Memories of countless arguments flood my mind—the constant criticism, the lack of support, and the overbearing attempts to control my life choices. The tightness in my chest grows, a mixture of anger and despair threatening to consume me.

I scoff, pushing my plate away with a sudden surge of anger. "Concern? Spare me the lectures, Mom. You both wanted me to take over the family business, but I had other plans. I wanted to be an actor, not some corporate drone."

My father's jaw clenches, his frustration mirroring my own. "We just wanted what was best for you, Bryce."

The words hit me like a sucker punch, dredging up old wounds that refuse to heal.

Marissa reaches for my hand under the table.But I'm beyond reason, my anger fueling the flames ofmutinythat have always burned within me.

"I'm done with this," I declare, pushing back my chair with a loud scrape against the floor. "I’m not a kid, so Idon't need to sit here and listen to you belittle my choices anymore."

My parents exchange a worried glance as I storm out of the house, the door slamming shut behind me with a resounding thud. I don't look back, my footsteps echoing on the pavementas I disappear into the nightand head straight for my car.

I've spent my entire life fighting against the expectations placed upon me, forging my own path in defiance of those who sought to control me.

Sometimes, I wonder if my career path isworth the price of my family's love and acceptance. MaybeI sacrificed too much in pursuit of the life I wanted. But it's moments like this that make me realize I was right to leave home.

The cool night air envelopes me like a shroud as anger courses through my veins, a fiery inferno fueled by years of pent-up frustration and resentment.I'm about to get into the carwhen I hear her voice, soft and gentle.

"Bryce, wait."

Her voice pierces my fury, stopping me in my tracks. I spin around to find Marissa on the sidewalk behind me, wearinga look that blends worry and resolve. Lost in my anger, I'd forgotten I was her ride.

"What do you want? I don't need your pity."

"I'm not here to pity you. I'm here because I care about you.I cansee that you're hurting, and I want to help."

Her eyes are pleading, and it's obvious that she cares. Yet, I shake my head, the weight of her words sinking in like a lead weight.

"Help? What could you possibly do? You can't fix me."

She reaches out a hand, her touch a soothing balm against my rawemotions. "Maybe I can't fix you. But I can listen. I can be here for you."

Being powerless isa foreign concept, one that I've spent my entire life avoiding at all costs. But at thisinstant, with Marissa standing before me, I can't help but feel it creeping in, threatening to shatter the walls I've spent so long building around my heart.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words escaping my lips before I can stop them. "I didn't mean to lash out like that. It's just...difficult to be around my parents."

Marissa nods, her expression softening with understanding. "I know. And it's okay. We all have our moments."

Her compassion washesover me,and I draw in a shaky breath. I'm glad that she agreed to come tonight.

"Thank youfor being here. For caring."

She smiles, and it's like a radiant beam of light in the darknessthat is my life.

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