“Which of my girls are you taking out tonight?” Not a question at all, but a threat. A death sentence.

The problem was this: you should never proclaim love to a triplet. And if you do, make sure that her father doesn’t find out.

She was beautiful. And sweet. Everything I was sure I wanted.

Excepting her father. He didn’t approve.

So there I was, standing in front of all three of them. Told to claim my date.

Their father didn’t leave the room, either, but instead stood there and watched me. I could feel his hatred for me in his eyes.

I looked at all three of them closely. Surely I would be given a sign. Surely I would see something that set one apart.

There was only this distinction: one wore a faint frown. One wore a faint smile.

Was she frowning because I couldn’t recognize her? Was she smiling to reassure me?

“You going to be heading out soon, son?” I was out of time.

“Of course, sir. Right now,” I said with more confidence than I felt, and took the hand of the girl of my dreams.