The next evening, I arrived at her house around 7:30 p.m., wearing my cleanest shirt and my most nervous smile.My palms were sweating. My heart raced like I was about to face a job interview — only worse.
I rang the doorbell.The door opened, and there he was — her father.
Tall. Serious. The kind of man whose silence carries weight.
"Good evening," I said, trying not to sound like I was about to faint. "My name is Leandro Vizk. I came to talk to you and your wife."
He studied me for what felt like an eternity.Then he nodded.
"Come in."
The living room was neat and warm. Her mother sat on the couch, kind eyes and a polite smile. Her younger sister peeked from behind a chair, curious.And there she was — Ana Paula — sitting straight, her hands clenched on her lap, eyes full of quiet hope.
Her father gestured toward a chair.
"Sit."
I sat, took a deep breath, and spoke before fear could stop me.
"Sir, ma'am… I came here to ask for permission to date your daughter."
Silence.He crossed his arms. His eyes didn't leave mine.
"What do you do for a living?" he asked finally."I work in telecommunications, in the technical field," I replied. "I'm also saving money to start college — Computer Networks."
He nodded slowly.
"And what are your intentions with my daughter?"
That question carried the full weight of his role as a father.I straightened my back and answered honestly.
"Serious intentions, sir. I want to build something with her. I want to take care of her."
For a long moment, he just looked at me. The room felt frozen.Then, he finally spoke.
"My daughter is a good girl. She's never brought a man home before. You can date her — but don't forget to respect her."
Relief flooded through me. I stood up, smiling.
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
Ana Paula's face lit up with a mix of joy and disbelief. Her mother gave a small nod of approval. Even her little sister smiled.
When I stepped out of that house later, the night air felt lighter.For the first time in my life, I wasn't just the technician who fixed Internet cables —I was a boyfriend.
And as I walked home under the dim streetlights, one thought kept echoing in my mind:
This is the beginning of something real.