Jay sat in his leather armchair, still wearing his fishing vest, looking like a man who had been kidnapped against his will—which, thanks to Phil, he basically had been. Phil stood nearby, beaming with the unshakeable optimism of a golden retriever .
"Best birthday ever, right Jay?" Phil asked, bouncing on his heels.
Jay stared at the ceiling. "I was asleep in a boat, Phil. You woke me up by screaming 'Shark!' at a fish."
Claire was hovering, wringing her hands. She shot a look at Gloria, who was standing by the stairs, looking nauseous and terrified.
"Dad," Claire started, her voice high and tight. "We just want you to have a nice day. Someone is very vulnerable right now , i need you to be a little sensitive. Everyone is here. Well, almost everyone..."
The front door flew open.
Mitchell and Cam burst in, looking flushed. They stopped in the center of the room, panting slightly. They had clearly rehearsed this entrance.
"Sorry we're late!" Mitchell announced, holding up a hand. "We had a... situation with the wardrobe. But we're here now."
"And," Cam added, his eyes wide and theatrical, "we have an announcement to make to everyone. It is life-changing. It is—"
"Save it," Jay interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "I know."
Mitchell froze. "You... you know?"
"Claire told me," Jay grunted. "About the fostering."
Mitchell whipped his head around to glare at Claire. "Claire! You stole our thunder?"
"I was softening the landing!" Claire hissed back.
"Look," Jay said, sitting forward. "You have my full support. Really. It takes a lot of guts."
Mitch and Cam blinked. This was... unexpected.
"Wow," Mitchell exhaled, his shoulders dropping. "Thanks, Dad. That actually means a lot."
"It'll be a perfect addition to the family," Jay continued, nodding sagely. Then, his eyes drifted toward the staircase, where his beloved French bulldog, Stella, was sitting.
"I just hope that one over there doesn't become jealous of the attention," Jay muttered, pointing a thick finger at the dog.
Manny, who was standing right next to Stella, let out a long, weary sigh. He adjusted his blazer.
"Oh, don't worry, Jay," Manny said, his voice dripping with existential dread. "This one will be fine. I'm the one who will be living in the shadow of your new baby."
The room went dead silent.
Jay frowned, confused. "What the hell is he talking about?"
Gloria squeezed her eyes shut. The dam broke.
"HE IS TALKING ABOUT I AM PREGNANT!" she screamed, her voice cracking.
The silence shattered.
"Oh, come on!" Mitchell threw his hands in the air, spinning around.
cam whispering"Really? Now? We bring a human child into the fold and you trump us with a fetus?"
"Oh, gross," Luke made a face, looking at his grandfather. "I didn't know Grandpa could still do it."
"Luke!" Phil admonished, looking scandalized. "Don't be disrespectful. Anyone could do it with Gloria."
Gloria stepped forward, her eyes blazing. She pointed a manicured finger at Jay.
"If you are too set in your old ways to be happy about it," she yelled, her voice rising with every word, pointing at her chest, "I can raise the baby myself! I come from a strong line of Latina women whose husbands were nowhere to be found! I don't need you! I don't need anyone!"
"Are you done?" Jay raised a hand, his voice surprisingly calm amidst the hurricane.
"YES!" Gloria panted, her chest heaving.
Jay looked at her. The room held its breath.
"Can I say something?" Jay asked softly.
Gloria crossed her arms, glaring. "Go on."
Jay looked at her, and the grumpiness melted away. His eyes grew shiny.
"That is the greatest news I have ever heard."
Gloria blinked, her anger deflating instantly. "It is?"
"All day," Jay said, his voice thick with emotion, "I've been hearing what my life had in store for me. Fishing trips. Retirement. Being old. And I didn't like it one bit."
He stood up and walked over to her, taking her hands.
"Now you are telling me I get a new start? With the woman of my dreams?"
Jay's chin trembled. "I think I'm gonna cry."
Phil, who was already weeping openly, sniffled. "Way ahead of you, Jay."
Jay pulled Gloria into a hug, burying his face in her hair. "It's gonna be great."
Gloria rested her chin on his shoulder, looking at the camera. She made a ridiculous, horrified face.
"I am gonna get so fat," she whispered.
"Mostly great," Jay corrected into her shoulder.
The family stood there, basking in the chaotic, emotional warmth of the moment.
Then, from the hallway, a head slowly peeked around the doorframe.
It was Aman. He looked from the crying old man to the pregnant woman to the weeping son-in-law. He looked absolutely terrified.
"Can I..." Aman whispered, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "Can I come in now? Or should I wait ?"
====
The screaming about the pregnancy had subsided into a low, energetic hum .
Mitchell stepped back into the living room first, holding the door wide. He looked tired but determined, the adrenaline of the "baby" fading into a protective alertness.
"Everyone," Mitchell said, his voice cutting through the chatter. "We can get back to the baby later. Right now... this is Aman."
Aman stepped out from the hallway.
He didn't slouch, and he didn't swagger. He walked in with the careful, measured gait . He was dressed in a button-down and slacks—neat, perhaps a little too formal for a Sunday barbecue.
The room quieted down, not into silence, but into the shifting, rustling curiosity of a family recalibrating.
Phil was the first to break the line. He crossed the room with a stride that was a little too long, a little too eager.
"Hi, Aman!" Phil beamed, extending a hand. "I'm Phil. I'm the... well, I'm the dad of this branch." He gestured vaguely to the Dunphy side of the room. "Really glad you're here."
Aman took the hand. Phil's grip was firm, enthusiastic.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Dunphy," Aman said. "Mitch mentioned you're cool ."
Phil's face softened, a genuine, unmasked delight spreading across his features. It wasn't the "cool dad" act; it was just a guy happy to be recognized.
"I am," Phil said, nodding seriously. "I absolutely am."
Claire was right behind him. She didn't beam. She observed. Her eyes did a rapid, maternal scan—checking his collar, his fingernails, the dark circles under his eyes.
"I'm Claire," she said, her voice brisk but warm. "Did they feed you? Cam gets distracted when he cooks. Half the time he forgets to turn the oven on."
"I ate, Mrs. Dunphy," Aman said. "Pancakes. I'm full."
Claire paused. She seemed to appreciate the efficiency of the answer. "Claire," she corrected. "And good. Throw your bag in the corner. Watch out for the loose floorboard by the plant."
Aman nodded and moved toward the seating area where the "cousin table" hierarchy was currently in session.
Haley was sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through her phone with a thumb speed that defied anatomy. She didn't look up until Aman was standing right in front of her.
She glanced at his shoes, then his face.
"You're tall," she stated flatly.
"Genetics," Aman said.
Haley considered this for a fraction of a second, decided he wasn't annoying, and went back to her phone. "Don't sit on the armrest. Luke broke it."
"I didn't break it," Luke whispered from the floor, where he was trying to balance a Cheeto on his nose. He looked up at Aman, his eyes wide and conspiratorial. "It was like that."
Luke scrambled up, dusting orange crumbs off his shirt. "I'm Luke. Do you have any ninja stars?"
Aman paused. He lowered his voice to match Luke's volume. "Not on me. Yet."
luke smile , seeing aman would be happy to play with him.
Then, the air temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. Alex was sitting in the armchair, a book open on her lap, though she clearly hadn't been reading it. She was watching him.
"Mitch said you're a Sophomore," Alex said. It wasn't a question.
"Rising Sophomore," Aman corrected smoothly. "Finishing up Freshman credits this month."
"Palisade High? , planning to move there. Any advice."
"Yes."
"Their AP History track is sluggish," Alex noted, closing her book. "But the science labs are decent. You'll want to supplement if you plan on doing anything competitive."
"I'll keep that in mind," Aman said. He didn't get defensive. He didn't try to prove he was smart. He just acknowledged the intel.
Alex narrowed her eyes slightly. She was used to people crumbling or posturing.
"So," a voice came from the side.
Manny Delgado stood by the refreshments, swirling a glass of sparkling cider like it was a twenty-year-old scotch. He was wearing a burgundy blazer that looked expensive and slightly tragic on a fourteen-year-old.
"I like your shirt. You don't see many people your age dress like that."
More observational than competitive.
Aman: "Thank you. I was hoping it wouldn't be too formal."
Manny smiles . "It works."
"You're right," Aman said, sounding genuinely contrite. "I actually feel a little underdressed next to you, Manny. That pocket square is excellent. Is that silk?"
Manny's chest puffed out. The suspicion vanished, replaced by the preening of a peacock that had just been fed a compliment.
"It is," Manny said, smoothing his lapel. "Finally. Someone who understands the geometry of fashion." He turned to Jay, who was passing by. "See, Jay? He gets it."
Jay grunted, carrying a plate of cake. "Yeah, yeah. Save the runway show for later."
Jay stopped in front of Aman. He didn't smile. He looked the kid up and down, searching for the drama, the trauma, the "baggage" he'd been warned about.
He just saw a kid standing straight, hands clasped.
"Grab a soda," Jay said gruffly. "If you need a quiet place, the garage is off limit . No one goes in there but me. Enjoy."
"Thanks, Jay," Aman said.
The Dinner Table
Twenty minutes later, the dining room was a cacophony.
Dishes were being passed from hand to hand. Gloria was shouting a story about a goat in her village that predicted the weather. Phil was trying to perform a magic trick with a dinner roll that Claire was actively trying to confiscate. Luke was making a volcano out of mashed potatoes.
Aman sat in the middle of it, silent.
He wasn't withdrawn; he was watching. He tracked the rhythm of the conversation, the way they interrupted each other without taking offense, the way laughter rolled from one end of the table to the other.
At the head of the table, Jay was frowning. He was patting the table around his plate, looking for something. He checked his left. He checked his right. He started to look annoyed .
Without breaking his gaze from Gloria's story, Aman quietly picked up the salt shaker near his elbow and slid it across the mahogany.
It stopped exactly two inches from Jay's hand.
Jay paused. He looked at the salt. He looked at Aman.
Aman didn't make a big deal of it. He just took a bite of his cake.
Jay grunted—a sound that, translated from Pritchett, meant 'Okay. Not bad.' He picked up the salt.
INT. JAY'S HOUSE - HALLWAY (CONFESSIONAL)
Aman is standing in the quiet hallway, holding a half-empty can of soda. The noise of the family dinner is a muffled roar behind the closed double doors.
He looks calm, but there is a flicker of calculation in his eyes.
AMAN They are... exactly as advertised.
(He takes a sip)
Phil tried to recruit me for a magic act. And I'm pretty sure Alex is already accesing me.
(He smiles, just a little)
AMAN And Manny? Manny could be high maintenance or low depending on how you see it. But I complimented his tie, kid is happy .
(He gestures toward the dining room door)
AMAN They're loud. They're messy. But nobody is eating alone.
"Yeah. I think I can settle in here."