It is months later before Beca is actually tested with her promise. They are going steady and have been for almost ten months now. Kommissar having moved into Beca's apartment and Chloe and Aubrey moving into Kommissar's vacant one. The couple had been looking for a place to stay for a while and since Kommissar moved in with Beca Chloe decided it was a prime opportunity to move in with her girlfriend.
They had their days down to a routine. Mornings were hectic as they avoiding each other and working in perfect synchronization. Kommissar always grabbing the cereal for Beca from the top shelf as Beca made Kommissar toast. Nights were filled with cuddles, talking, and teaching each other things. Kommissar promised to help Beca with German and in return Beca was helping Kommissar learn to bake better. Sometimes Kommissar would stand and play the violin or flute or cello while Beca worked on the computer or Beca would play one of her mixes while Kommissar studied. The nights always ended with Kommissar awake reading a book and Beca snuggled in between her legs watching something on the TV or playing on her phone. Life couldn't be better.
But it could get worse.
Its the typical Saturday evening where Kommissar is getting ready to make dinner, setting up the pots and pans, heating the oven. Beca is sitting on the couch strumming her guitar and listening to music through her headphones and taking notes. Their apartment is somewhere between messy and not. Kommissar's OCD kicking in when Beca leaves things out or her things end up spread across the floor. Kommissar smiles to herself as she sighs in content at her girlfriend. For the first time in basically all of her life, she enjoys existing. She enjoys living.
That is, until there is a knock on the door. Kommissar leaves the pasta on the stove and moves to open the door, almost slamming it when she sees who is on the other side.
A woman who is a little taller than her and a man who is quite taller than her. A woman with blonde hair and green eyes and a man with brown hair and blue eyes. A woman who still wears pencil skirts and suit jackets and heels that could double as weapons and footwear. A man who still has rectangular glasses for his bad eyesight and wears a suit like always. Both of them lean and fit. So much like Kommissar herself.
"Mama... Papa..." Kommissar mutters.
"Look at you," her dad whispers, his hand moving to cup his daughters cheek. Kommissar notes that their English has improved. Her parents want to learn English for when they would visit their daughter in America going to a good college. At least before they found out she was gay.
Kommissar had mastered note flinching at this point however she couldn't hide it in her eyes. Both her parents could see the anger and confusion on Kommissar's face. Beca, having noticed the strangers at the door, appeared at Kommissar's side a moment later.
"Who are these people?" Beca asks wearily, looking from the man to the woman. She had a guess though, judging by their looks and the fact that there were no words floating across their skin.
"Beca, this is my mom and dad." Kommissar introduced. "Mama, Papa, this is Beca Mitchell. My girlfriend."
As she said girlfriend Beca felt herself being pushed back gently, Kommissar stepping up to make sure her parents didn't lash out on Beca.
"Girlfriend?" Her mom moved toward Kommissar slowly. "You don't remember what we taught you? No relationships. School comes first. How many languages do you know?"
"Eight."
"Instruments?"
"Five."
"Sports?"
"None."
Her dad makes a tsk sound. "Ahh... my daughter. You do not remember the lessons we taught you? Perhaps you need a refresher-"
"No." Beca moved from behind her girlfriend to in front. "You do not abuse your child. You do not walk into her home and just begin to make threats."
"This is not her home. Her home is in Berlin." Kommissar's mom shakes her head. "You are a feisty American. Nosey as well. We have come to take our daughter back to Germany. We have found a nice place that will... how do you Americans say... Slap some sense into her?"
"No." Kommissar says fiercely. "I am not going back there. This is my home. And you are not welcome."
"You always were weak. This will be good for you." Her father insists.
Beca shoves him back into the hallway. "It would be good for you to give a crap about your daughter too. But thats not happening is it? People like you should not be allowed to have children. You are just beating her down and you need to go."
"Get your hands off my husband," Kommissar's mother screams, her hands wrapping around Beca's tiny wrists.
She throws Beca backwards who luckily falls right into Kommissar's arms. Kommissar lets her stand before moving to her mother and slapping her. "This is what your love feels like." Kommissar whispers. "Get the fuck out of my apartment or Im calling the police."
Both of her parents look at Kommissar in horror. "You are a disgrace. You were destined for greatness and you are letting the family down. I am proud to say that I never had a daughter. No one would ever want someone like you. Not even the foolish American will stay for long."
With those words her mom pulls the door shut, Beca and Kommissar listening to the retreating steps. It takes all of an hour for Kommissar to finally break, which Beca admires. The blonde makes dinner and eats, gets through a quarter of a movie, then everything just crumbles.
And Beca is there, rubbing her girlfriend's back and assuring her that she loves her. "Im not leaving you." Beca whispers over and over again.
She vows the same thing a year later at the altar.
*End of the Book*
