It was a serene Sunday evening when Sophie and Mike finally made their way to the imposing entrance of Tyson's mansion, a grand structure adorned with intricate stonework and majestic columns that towered over them.
As they stepped inside, the air was quickly filled with the scent of gourmet dishes wafting from the kitchen. Mrs. Tyson, a woman of elegant stature with an air of authority, greeted them with enthusiasm.
"At long last, you've arrived!" she exclaimed, her voice warm yet playful.
"Stella, prepare the table immediately!" she instructed the chief cook, her tone brisk yet familiar, before turning her full attention to Mike and Sophie.
"Well, it took you both long enough, didn't it?" Mrs. Tyson teased a glimmer of humor in her expressive eyes.
"Hey Mum," Mike replied, flashing a casual smile, his demeanor relaxed in the presence of his mother.
"Good day, Ma," Sophie chimed in, her expression bright, a silent prayer in her heart that Mrs. Tyson would take a liking to her.
"You look radiant, sweetheart," Mrs. Tyson exclaimed, her smile widening as she beckoned Sophie with open arms for a hug.
"Thank you so much, Ma," Sophie said, her relief palpable as she stepped into the warm embrace, feeling the warmth of acceptance wash over her.
"Great, and how about you, Mum? I'm doing just fine, thank you for asking," Mike interjected dramatically as he sauntered past them, his tone light-hearted.
"Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?" Mrs. Tyson laughed lightly, her gaze returning to Sophie. "I adore your dress, sweetheart!"
"Thank you, Ma," Sophie replied courteously, her heart swelling with joy.
"It's Mum now, Sweetheart," Mrs. Tyson corrected playfully, a beaming smile lighting up her face. "I love your dress"
"And she made it herself," Mike added with pride, nudging Sophie slightly.
"Really?" Mrs. Tyson said, her eyebrows arching in surprise, a hint of admiration creeping into her voice.
"Yes, Mum," Sophie chimed happily. "I could make one for you too if you'd like!" she suggested, enthusiasm bubbling in her tone.
"Oh, I would love that!" Mrs. Tyson exclaimed, her excitement evident as she invited them both to take their seats at the elegantly set dining table, complete with fine china and glimmering silverware.
As they settled down, Mr. Tyson made his entrance, his footsteps deliberate on the polished tiled staircase. His expression was one of stoic indifference, an imposing figure that commanded attention.
"Good day, Dad," Mike said as he took his place at the table.
"Good day, Sir," Sophie followed suit, offering her greeting respectfully while Mr. Tyson took his seat at the head of the grand mahogany table, his presence casting a shadow over the evening's welcoming atmosphere.
"Good day, young lady. And how are you doing, Son?" Mr. Tyson finally acknowledged them, his voice low and authoritative.
"I'm fine, thank you," Mike responded, his eyes focused on his plate, avoiding the tension that hung in the air.
Sophie couldn't help but marvel at the magnificence of the mansion that surrounded her. She longed to reach out and touch the refined artworks adorning the walls, each piece telling a story of its own, but she composed herself, reminding herself not to appear starstruck.
"Now, Michael," Mr. Tyson started after clearing his throat, his tone shifting as he fixed his gaze on his son. "How has married life been for you and your new wife?"
"Good," Mike replied, his focus still on his meal, a subtle tension building beneath the surface.
Sophie noticed the palpable strain between Mike and his father. It was a stark contrast to the warmth she experienced with Mrs. Tyson, and she couldn't fathom why Mr. Tyson seemed so detached and unyielding toward his son. Perhaps it was an intricate layer of their dynamic she hadn't yet unraveled.
"I see you both look happy," Mr. Tyson continued, his tone now sharper, indicating a deeper agenda that Sophie sensed was brewing.
Mrs. Tyson had been unusually quiet since they began the meal, and Sophie pondered whether she was simply practicing proper dining etiquette or if there was a deeper reason for her silence. In contrast, Sophie, as the newcomer, felt her words were still held back, leaving her in an introspective state.
"Very much," Mike's reply startled Sophie from her reverie.
"When should I expect to welcome my grandchild or perhaps children?" Mr. Tyson inquired, his voice steady but laced with expectation.
Sophie nearly choked on her food at the abrupt question, her heart racing as Mrs. Tyson quickly offered her water, concern etched across her face. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.
"Yes, thank you," Sophie managed to say once she regained her composure.
"Michael?" Mr. Tyson called, noticing Mike's renewed silence as he sought reassurance from Sophie.
"Please, can you not spoil this moment for us?" Mike shot back, meeting his father's steely gaze with a resolute stare.
"I'm not spoiling anything, Michael. I'm merely asking my only son when he intends to provide me with a grandchild. Isn't that why you got married?" Mr. Tyson pressed, his voice growing firmer.
"First off, when you arranged this marriage, you never mentioned this, so I don't understand why this is being brought up now. Secondly, I love and respect my wife deeply, so until she expresses a desire for children, I cannot and will not yield to your demand for grandchildren, Sir," Mike replied, his tone icy, leaving Sophie aghast at the fervor of their exchange.
"Michael, you will do as I say! I don't care about your wants or your wife's!" Mr. Tyson reprimanded, his authority undeterred.
"I am not a child anymore, and I will make my own decisions," Mike retorted, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
"Indeed you will, regardless of how old you think you are. I am still your father!" Mr. Tyson asserted.
"I despise you!" Mike declared, the words laced with years of restrained emotion, and Sophie felt a deep sense of unease wash over her.
Mrs. Tyson finally intervened, her voice rising above the escalating confrontation. "Enough! Both of you!" she commanded, attempting to restore order to the table.
"I've had enough," Mike said, standing up and leaving the table.
Sophie felt the weight of the silence in the dining room and, after a few moments of contemplation, decided to follow suit. She stood up, thanked Mr. and Mrs. Tyson for the meal, and left the room, maintaining her composure despite the lack of response from them. As she walked through the expansive mansion, Sophie reflected on Mike's words. She wondered if he truly meant what he said or if he was merely playing along with what they had previously agreed upon before coming. Above all, she felt a mix of surprise and concern about the expectations placed on them regarding starting a family, especially given the circumstances of their marriage.