Chapter 3 - The Demand
My mother reached our table first.
She wore a striking, deep burgundy dress paired with matching stilettos—shoes with impossibly high, sharp heels that clicked aggressively against the polished floor. Her makeup was flawless, her hair styled into perfect, stiff waves. Every single detail of her appearance was meticulously curated to project total control.
She looked down at me with the same expression she always wore: as if my mere presence was an exhausting inconvenience she was forced to endure.
"Well, you finally made it to a family event,"
My mother remarked, her tone heavily implying that I had spent the entire evening purposely avoiding her.
"We came straight to our assigned table, Mom,"
I offered a polite, strained smile, hoping to defuse the tension early.
She completely ignored my explanation, her eyes darting around the table, taking inventory of the empty chairs left by guests who were currently on the dance floor or mingling at the bar. My father stepped up beside her, his expression stony and completely unpredictable. Olivia stood right behind them, her hand still resting protectively over her flat stomach.
"Your sister needs a seat,"
My mother declared, her voice carrying the undeniable weight of an order.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. The dull ache in my lower back was intensifying due to the physical strain of carrying the baby. I gestured toward the three empty chairs immediately adjacent to us.
"There are plenty of open seats right here, Mom,"
I pointed out, keeping my voice as steady and calm as possible.
"She can sit in any of them."
My mother’s eyes narrowed into dark slits, the corners of her mouth pulling down into a tight, severe line.
"She needs your seat,"
May you like
My mother corrected me sharply.
"That position has the best view of the head table."
