Maxwell Peary's face darkened. What kind of mother talks about her son like that? It's as if she wished he couldn't have children.
Silvia Waterborne awkwardly rubbed her nose. Oh no, he's angry. Well, it seems most men are rather sensitive when their manliness is questioned.
"Alright, I'll stop."
Silvia Waterborne waved her hand, seeing the look on his face as if he was about to eat her alive.
"But you can't just ignore a potential problem. You're my son, after all, and I still want to hold… Hey! Hey! Don't go! I haven't finished speaking yet!"
BANG!
With a loud thud, Maxwell Peary had already pulled Nia Mitchell back into the room and slammed the door shut.
His face was dark, etched with fury.
Nia Mitchell swallowed nervously, standing awkwardly to the side as he gripped her wrist.
Time seemed to freeze. Her mother-in-law's voice was no longer audible from outside. Nia turned her head to carefully observe Maxwell Peary's expression.
"Uncle?" she ventured.
