Growing up in our pristine suburban home, my parents had a running joke about how we'd all live in a grand mansion someday.

"One day, Emma," my father would say, adjusting his already-perfect tie in the hallway mirror, "we'll live in a house so big you'll need a map to find the kitchen."

My mother would laugh, the sound like crystal glasses clinking, adding, "And you'll marry someone who'll help us get there, won't you, sweetheart?"

"A prince!" I'd reply when I was a kid. "With a big castle! And lots of horses!"

I thought it was funny throughout my early childhood. I even used to daydream about my future castle. But by high school, I understood there was nothing funny about it at all.

My parents were relentless. Every decision they made, every friendship they had, and every activity we attended had to advance our social climbing somehow.

Mom vetted my friends based on their parents' tax brackets! I don't think I'll ever forget how she sneered when I brought my classmate Bianca over to work on our science project.

"You aren't friends with that girl, are you?" Mom asked at dinner that evening.

I shrugged. "Bianca's nice, and she's one of the top students in class."

"She's not good enough for you," Mom replied sternly. "Those cheap clothes and awful haircut says it all, top student or not."

A strange feeling churned in my gut when Mom said those words. That was when I truly realized how narrow-minded my parents were.

Dad was no better. He networked at my school events instead of watching my performances.

I still remember my leading role in "The Glass Menagerie" senior year. Father spent the entire show in the lobby discussing investment opportunities with the parents of my cast mates.

"Did you see me at all?" I asked him afterward, still in my costume.

"Of course, princess," he replied, not looking up from his phone. "I heard the applause. Must have been wonderful."

Then came college and Liam.

"A teacher?" My mother had practically choked on her champagne when I told her about him. "Emma, darling, teachers are wonderful people, but they're not exactly... well, you know."

She glanced around our country club as if someone might overhear this shameful secret.

I knew exactly what she meant, and for the first time in my life, I didn't care.

Liam was different from anyone I'd ever met. While other guys tried to impress me with their parents' vacation homes or luxury cars, he talked about becoming a teacher with such passion it made his whole face light up.

When he proposed, it wasn't with an enormous diamond in a fancy restaurant. It was with his grandmother's ring in the community garden where we'd had our first date.

The stone was small but caught the sunlight in a way that made it look like it held all the stars in the universe.

"I can't give you a mansion," he said, his voice shaking slightly, "but I promise to give you a home filled with love."

I said yes before he could even finish asking.

My parents' response was arctic.

"Not that teacher!" my father had spat as though he was talking about some criminal. "How will he provide for you? For us? You'll be throwing your future in the trash if you marry him!"

"He already provides everything I need," I told them. "He's kind, he makes me laugh, and he—"

"I forbid it!" Dad interrupted. "If you go through with this, if you marry that teacher…"

"Then we'll cut you off," Mom finished, her voice sharp as glass. "Call him right this minute and break up with him, or we'll disown you. We didn't invest so much time and effort in your upbringing only for you to throw it all away."

My jaw dropped.

"You can't be serious," I whispered.

"It's him or us," Dad replied, his face like stone.

I'd known my parents might have a hard time accepting Liam, but this? I couldn't believe they'd make such an impossible demand.

But the hard look on their faces made it clear their decision was final. I knew I had to make a choice, and it broke my heart.