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Chapter_85
The room remained thick with tension, an invisible wall separating everyone at the table. The events that had unfolded moments earlier, coupled with the undercurrent of unresolved feelings, had created an atmosphere so heavy that even the food on the table seemed unappetizing.
Quinn, still clutching her eye, kept her gaze fixed downward, her heart sinking with each passing second. Alexander’s frustration was palpable, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. Despite the words exchanged, it was clear to anyone with eyes that his main concern was Quinn, not the strained dynamics of his family. The only one who seemed remotely unconcerned with the escalation was Wayne, whose dismissive attitude toward Quinn’s injury only made matters worse.
Kaitlyn, sensing the growing discord, quickly turned to Freya, attempting to shift the focus of the conversation. “Freya, are you alright?” she asked, her voice syrupy sweet. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Surely this meal isn’t weighing on you too much.”
Freya, who had been observing everything with an unreadable expression, took a long sip of her wine before answering. “I’m fine, Kaitlyn,” she said evenly, though her eyes flicked momentarily to Walter, who had been quiet throughout the entire exchange. It was clear that she was doing her best to maintain composure, but the growing suspicion in her mind was hard to ignore. What was happening between Quinn and Walter? Why did it seem like there was more going on than just what met the eye?
Walter, for his part, had retreated into his usual shell, watching the scene unfold with a calm demeanor that bordered on indifference. But there was a subtle tension in his posture, the way his fingers drummed lightly on the armrest of his chair as though he were waiting for something—some cue, some shift in the dynamic—to make a move.
Alexander, clearly at his limit, turned to Wayne again. His voice was cold, like ice scraping against stone. “Do you think this is still about dinner?” he asked, his eyes locking with his father’s. “You invited us all here to ‘celebrate,’ but I don’t think anyone’s been celebrating anything.”
Wayne’s eyes flickered with annoyance, but he masked it quickly. “Alexander, stop. You’re making a spectacle out of nothing,” he growled, his voice laced with irritation. “We’re family. We should be able to get past petty issues without turning everything into a crisis.”
“Petty issues?” Alexander’s laugh was humorless, cutting through the stillness. “Is that what you call it? Because that little ‘petty issue’ just hurt Quinn, and no one seems to care about that.”
The accusation hung in the air, but it was as though Wayne couldn’t even bring himself to acknowledge it. Instead, he waved a dismissive hand, directing his attention back to his plate. “Eat your dinner, all of you. I’ve had enough of this childish bickering.”
A brief, uncomfortable silence followed. Everyone at the table, even Kaitlyn and Valerie, fell into a kind of reluctant acquiescence, their eyes shifting away from Quinn, whose discomfort was only growing with each passing second.
Quinn’s throat tightened, a lump forming as she fought to swallow the lump of emotion that had lodged itself there. Why was she here? Why did she keep allowing herself to be subjected to this? Every glance from the family, every offhand comment, every moment of isolation—each one chipped away at her sense of belonging, until she felt like a stranger in her own skin.
Finally, it was Freya who broke the tension again, her voice cutting through the quiet with a razor-sharp edge. “Alexander’s right,” she said, her gaze cold as it swept over the table. “We’re all here, but what are we really doing? This isn’t a family gathering. It’s a farce.”
Her words landed like a bombshell, and for a moment, no one dared to speak. Even Wayne seemed to falter, his gaze flickering with something akin to uncertainty.
Quinn took a deep breath, standing up abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. The room seemed to collectively freeze, eyes turning toward her as she faced them all. They had made it clear. She wasn’t welcome here.
“I don’t think I can sit here anymore,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions crashing through her chest. “I’m going to go.”
Alexander’s head snapped toward her, his brow furrowing with concern. “Quinn, wait—”
But she was already halfway to the door, the sound of her footsteps quickening as she fled the room. The tension that had gripped the family now turned to something worse: an uncomfortable, unspoken understanding that Quinn had just put an end to something—perhaps a dream, perhaps an illusion of family—that was never truly there in the first place.
Wayne let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair. “She’s dramatic,” he muttered, clearly unwilling to face the real issue at hand.
But his words fell on deaf ears. Even Valerie, who had been so ready to defend her family, looked unsettled now. Freya, for all her usual composure, didn’t seem convinced that things could just return to normal.
The storm wasn’t over. In fact, it had just begun.
